


The Greatest Story that I Tell

by CiceroProFacto



Category: South Park
Genre: Eating Disorders, F/M, Fluff and Smut, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-28
Updated: 2014-07-28
Packaged: 2018-02-10 18:55:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 35,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2036277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CiceroProFacto/pseuds/CiceroProFacto
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Every wise man ever has said not to fall for your best friend.  This must be why.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Greatest Story that I Tell

**Author's Note:**

> (Formatting)- the italics are flashbacks while regular type is monologue and bold is text messages.  
> It all rushes together because the whole thing's written as a third person monologue (and because it kinda just ended up that way- I'm so sorry).

     It could’ve been different...hell, it could’ve been a lot of things. But, it wasn’t. It was him- alone and bitter and guilty the summer after High School.  Graduation was supposed to mean freedom, a summer of carelessness and last chances.  But, honestly, Kyle never really had a chance.

...

 

     If he had to trace it back to a source, he’d say it started when Stan came out as gay.  It had shaken the entire Junior class since Stan had always been an attractive jock, a fullback on the football team- high in the running for Quarterback that year, and he’d had several girlfriends that had paraded him around the school like a trophy boyfriend.

 Kyle knew better.  Stan never talked about his ‘girlfriends’ when they hung out anymore, and when Clyde went around bragging that he’d lost his virginity after the first football game of the season their sophomore year, Kyle was curious to know which of their other teammates had already done something sexual.  Really…he was just curious if Stan had. So, one night in the fall of their sophomore year, he brought it up over Call of Duty when they were wrapped up in blankets on his bed, sipping at Cokes and eating Cheesy Poofs.

_“Ah, that’s fucking gross, dude!” Stan all but shouted, scrunching his nose and burying his mouth into the comforter._

_Kyle faltered a little at that, glancing once over at Stan before turning his eyes back to the screen, “I…I dunno, man. If I could hold down a girlfriend, and she wanted to do something like that, I think I’d be all over it.”_

_Stan just shook his head, “Sicko.”_

_“You’re sixteen, dude, you don’t have to pretend you’re not into sex…I mean, unless you’re really not.”  But, Kyle doubted that was the case, he’d heard Stan jerk off a few times when he’d spent the night at his house- it was part of the reason he’d stopped taking showers at Stan’s house._

_Stan paused the game abruptly, rolling onto his side to face his best friend, “Kyle…I probably need to tell you something…”_

_Kyle hadn’t questioned it when Stan explained his revelations into sexuality. He knew Stan had always been more self-aware than any of them, and if he was ready to say something like this, he’d probably put a lot of thought into it. Hell, he’d probably lost a fuck-ton of sleep over it, knowing him.  So, Kyle treated the news with respect._

_“I mean, I dunno how much I actually like guys,” Stan admitted. “I just know that I’m still sorta grossed out by girls like…I might love their personalities or spending time with them, but once the skin comes out, I tuck and run, y’know?”_

_“Okay, dude,” Kyle said simply. “Can we finish this level?”_

 Nothing really changed for awhile after that except that Stan broke up with Mattie and stayed single for several months.  Time passed, Kyle was abducted by the Russian mafia for awhile, Kenny was arrested for selling porn- Miley Cyrus pressed a lawsuit for some spread she’d done with him, Cartman tried to have Nash Grier give a speech at the city hall, Stan accused the AA of being aliens trying to abduct him- and was somehow right.  

     While things were normal all around him, Kyle had a little bit of trouble seeing Stan as his gay best friend.  He refrained himself from watching Stan every time he made a tackle at football practices.  He was resigned to be mature about Stan’s little secret.  Besides, it wasn’t like Stan was attracted to anyone on the football team- he would’ve told Kyle if he was.  And, he tried not to think anything of it when Stan came to every basketball game to cheer for him or picked him up after every Mock Trial team practice.  He’d done that for him before, and just because he knew Stan was gay, that didn’t mean the things he did as his friend meant anything special now.  

     In the fall, Kyle got harangued into working backstage for the school play, building sets and moving props backstage.  Stan volunteered to work with him.  That’s really where the problems started.  Kyle didn’t mind helping out- he didn’t hate it, but Stan absolutely loved it. Theater provided Stan something he’d never had before- gay boys to flirt with.

     It was horrible to watch, and Kyle wasn’t completely sure Stan knew he was doing it. In the car on the way home, Stan talked more than normal, happier than Kyle had seen him in a long time. _“I think we should try out for the spring musical!” he said._

_Kyle snorted, “You really think they’d let me on stage to dance?” he joked rhetorically._

_Stan shrugged, “Then I’ll try out and you can work tech again. You kicked ass with the logistics for the running crew, you could probably get an assistant stage manager part.”_

_“You really enjoyed this, didn’t you?” Kyle said, grinning a little teasingly. “Blending right in with the theater kids.”_

_“Well yeah, everyone seems to like me a lot.”_

_Kyle chuckled, “Yeah, it’s 'cause we lifted all the heavy stuff for them and you flirted with every guy there,” he teased... And immediately the mood between them shifted like a rockslide. They never talked about Stan’s sexuality. It was just sort of…there. Not an elephant in the room exactly- more like a gazelle, ready to flee at the first sight of danger._

_“I did not,” Stan said, voice cold._

_Kyle raised a brow, “Ookay,” he said, letting joking nonchalance seep into his tone._

_"I did. not. flirt. with them,” Stan repeated more harshly._

_“Alright, alright!” Kyle huffed. He hadn’t expected Stan to actually get angry with him._

     The spring musical was where Stan met Brad.  Kyle actually introduced them because Brad had worked with him in the fall play- he was one of the guys that had harangued him into helping build sets. So, Kyle introduced Stan to him on audition day while he helped him run lines. Because Stan got an ensemble role on stage, he had to go to practices after school which Kyle couldn’t come to- Kyle wasn’t required until there were heavy lifting jobs or set design. Meanwhile, Stan hung out with Brad at practices since Kyle wasn’t there.

     Brad was the male lead.  His singing wasn’t great- Kyle thought he might even have the douchefuck beaten there, but he could dance and act better than anyone Kyle had ever seen…which Kyle could not.  While Kyle was lanky and muscly in weird places from running and rushing the ball on the football field and basketball court, Brad had one of those stupid dancers’ bodies, all lean and cut for endurance.  While both Kyle and Brad had red hair, Brad's was lighter- more orange, well groomed, and short- Kyle’s was long, frizzy and dark.  Kyle still wore cargo pants and graphic t-shirts, Brad dressed fashionably in tight pants and vests and golfer’s caps. For some reason Kyle knew all this mattered now…but over everything, Brad was a senior- a senior that was paying attention to Stan.

     And Stan flirted better then Kyle had ever seen…like he’d never been able to before without puking. Kyle knew he’d started taking medication for his anxiety, but he didn’t expect the sudden jump in confidence. Stan started _dressing_ differently too. His clothes got tighter and more chic, better coordinated- or whatever. He walked more confidently- and he looked amazing…

     And Kyle was starting to feel a little left behind.

     Stan still came to football practices. He still played Call of Duty and talked about comic books and television and laughed at Kyle’s jokes, but something was really off-kilter between them, and Kyle could sense it, but he couldn’t place what it was.

     In April, the final few weeks of dress rehearsal for the play meant that all the actors and technicians were stuck backstage together.  Kyle reminded himself to stay out of the drama- backstage was like a fishbowl and he couldn’t get caught up in the life there.  But, it was difficult with Brad and Stan flirting, sharing a pair of headphones on a prop piece Kyle needed to move, chatting next to the center beam crank while Kyle worked his arm over the metal bar, really getting way too close to each other behind the back traveler while Kyle was passing to the other side of the stage.  It was just…everywhere- how much cooler Stan was in the theater and how much he liked Brad.

     Opening night, _Stan sat with Kyle while he did his homework before the house opened.  He chatted happily where he was perched on the table, which Kyle kind of enjoyed despite the distraction- he always enjoyed seeing Stan happy, but then Stan shoved Kyle’s shoulder amiably and said, “Oh, and by the way, Bradley got me a job at the movie theater with him, isn’t that awesome?”_

_Kyle forced a smile. Bradley- that's what Stan fucking called him.  “Yeah, dude…you love movies, that should be fun.”_

_Stan seemed satisfied and he leaned back, swinging his feet where they were locked at the ankles under the tabletop. He didn’t say anything else._

     Sophomore year ended on a somewhat ominous note, looking back on it.  Kyle knew he had sensed something growing between him and Stan, but at the time he’d paid it no mind.  They still hung out together at least once every week, and Kyle was afraid that Stan’s new job and Brad’s clique of friends would drag Stan away from him, but so far, Stan had made conscious effort to make time for him, and Kyle expected that to continue.  

     But, really, Kyle ended up spending a lot of time with Kenny and Cartman that summer.  Stan didn’t even make time to go to the summer festival- which was one of their traditions.  He said it was because he didn’t have the money, but Kyle knew he’d been buying DVDs of every movie Brad told him he needed to see.  Kyle hardly saw his best friend, and when he did it was always because Stan had called him to come hang out with his new friends- Brad was always there.

     Fall of Junior year, Kyle had to hear it through Bebe that Stan had started dating Brad.  She was freaking out about the fact that Stan was gay, and Kyle wouldn’t have been very surprised- except that he had to hear it through fucking Bebe that his best friend was dating a twenty-year-old.  

     He texted Stan a furious message, and maybe he ranted a little about how he’d been putting his job over his life and ditching his real friends and being a general douchebag, but he felt everything he'd said was merited because he felt like shit.  So what if Stan looked happier then he had in years?  More confident? Fuck that, he was making Kyle feel like crap.  If he didn’t want to be friends anymore, he could’ve said so.

     Stan never responded to that message, but a week later, he quit the football team.  Some kids around the school were saying the coach had kicked him off for being gay, but Kyle knew coach Bennet wouldn’t do that even if parents protested.  Kyle was convinced Stan was doing quitting to avoid him.  And Kyle felt awful about it.  Stan loved football- and he had a good chance at getting the quarterback position that season.  If Stan was quitting just to avoid him, he had to stop him.

_Kyle knocked louder, rung the doorbell again.  It would’ve been eaiser to just text, but there was no guaranteeing that Stan would answer if he did that, so here he was, knocking like a maniac._

_The door swung open- thankfully it was Stan. “What?” he deadpanned._

_Kyle glared a little, “You quit the football team.”_

_“Yeah?”_

_"Why?” Kyle demanded._

_Stan just shrugged, “I just…don’t see the point in these huge hulking jocks jumping each other in the grass over a ball.”_

_Kyle froze, shocked. “Dude,” he said, “You love football…”_

_“Maybe that’s changed…”_

_“Maybe you’ve changed.”_

_“I have,” Stan agreed simply.  He knit his brow, “Is that really such a bad thing?” he said, staring back hard, expectant on something._

_Kyle faltered, trying to understand what Stan wanted him to say. Of course change wasn’t always a bad thing, but this change meant that Stan was drifting away from him, and Kyle knew he wasn’t supposed to cling to him and say ‘don’t leave me alone’, yet it kinda seemed like Stan wanted that- or at least for Kyle to join his new group of friends.  It was infuriating.  Stan was being so pretentious, expecting him to read his mind.  But…he was right.  Kyle had to admit that Stan had seemed more confident in some ways- clingy and clone-like with Brad, but he…he laughed and smiled more- and he’d lost some weight._

_“…I guess not,” Kyle said finally._

_Stan opened the door and stepped aside to invite him in, “You wanna play some Xbox?”_

     So, Kyle stayed on the football team and Stan got a part in the fall play.  Brad had graduated, so Kyle didn’t mind working tech in the fall and spring shows since he wasn’t there to monopolize Stan- besides, Mrs. Burgess insisted they needed his muscle backstage lifting set pieces.  Stan didn’t make it to very many basketball games anymore because he was working, but he did bring Brad to the football games and they’d hold up banners with Kyle’s name on it…which shouldn’t make Kyle’s chest feel tight, but it did.

     For awhile, it was enough. Stan and Kyle didn’t have any classes together, Kyle’s sports and extracurriculars took up most of his time, and Stan was busy with work, yet they still found time to spend together. Still, the distance took a toll. A month after Stan’s seventeenth birthday, he sent Kyle a panicked text. 

**> FUCK HELP!!! **

**> KYLE!!!**

** <What’s wrong? **

**> caught trespassing w/ weed…**

      ** <WTF, Stan **

**> owner’s gonna call cops… **

** <What’d you want me to do about it? **

**> IDK!! **

**> FUCK KY HELP! **

**> Fuck… **

**> Fuck Kyle! **

**> Wait no… **

**> No, Bradlys talk him out of it. **

** <What **

**> Yeah, we’re good. **

** <You’re smoking weed w/ Brad**

**> Ye. **

**> Damn, Bradss good atalking. **

**> owners smokin w/us hahhaa!! XD **

** <Why the fuck are you smoking weed? **

**> k thnx, Kyle bye. **

** <No! Stan YTF r u smoking weed **

** <STAN**

     Kyle didn’t worry much about that one insular case.  Once Stan had come down off his high later that night, Kyle texted him again to lecture him about smoking.  Kyle had been hooked on tobacco briefly in middle school until he lost an uncle to lung cancer when he was thirteen, and he didn’t want Stan fucking up his lungs- and he didn’t want him to have to go through withdrawals to quit an addiction.  Plus, weed just made people limp towels. Stan had responded nonchalantly, saying he just wanted to try everything, it wasn’t a big deal. He promised not to smoke again, so Kyle left it alone.

     But, as the months went on, rumors began popping up of stupid shit Stan was getting into with his boyfriend, crazy driving, fights, drugs.  Kyle ignored them as false rumors until the Hobbit incident.  In December, they went to the premier of a Hobbit movie in a small group- all Stan’s friends. Everyone dressed up, Kyle as the High Elf and Stan as his ranger- just for old times’ sake, Brad as a wizard, Brad’s best friend (who looked suspiciously like Stan) went as a hobbit, etc.

_Waiting outside in the cold, Brad sent one person to buy their tickets and everyone else stood off to the side.  Kyle was confused for a moment as to why- until Brad reached into his wizard robes and brought out a pipe, “We’ve got the costumes, we look like total fucking dorks- we’ve gotta make this official, eh?” he said, smirking at Stan._

_To Kyle’s disdain, Stan just smiled and laughed.  Brad’s friend brought out a lighter and lit up the pipe then pulled out another and lit that one, passing it off to a friend.  Remembering Stan’s promise, Kyle was in disbelief when Stan brought out his own pipe and lit up, placing the stem between his lips and drawing in deeply.  Kyle just stared blankly- then furiously._

_Stan looked back, his expression almost apologetic for a moment, then he glanced at his friends, back at Kyle, at Brad, then took the pipe from his mouth and offered it to Kyle._

_Kyle just narrowed his eyes, betrayed, “I’m good,” he growled, shivering a little in the December air. “I think I’ll just go save our seats.”_

     Kyle hadn’t thought Stan could be a shittier friend to him after that, but they were two hours early to get good seats, and when everyone finally made it inside they didn’t want to sit and wait like Kyle had expected them to.   _“Someone’s gotta stay to hold our seats,” Brad announced- always the fucking goddamn ringleader._ _“Who thinks they can hold down nine chairs?”_

_Stan elbowed Kyle, “Kyle’s tough, he’s on the football team.”_

_“Stan!”_

_Stan turned to him, “C’mon, dude…please?” he said, eyes going soft- like the fucking did when he begged. “I’ll bring you back some of that sugar-free candy you like…”_

_Kyle just growled a little- which Stan took as confirmation and ran off after his boyfriend and their friends. Kyle watched them go, holding goddamn hands, then he waited an hour and a half for them to come back._

     They forgot the candy.

     Little incidents like that occurred every time Kyle tried to hang out with Stan during their Junior year.  Brad would show up and be a dick- get Stan to be a dick, Stan would be a dick without Brad even there, Stan would have nothing to talk about but Brad or work.  It got to the point where hanging out with Stan just made Kyle angry and frustrated.  

     And worse, Kyle was beginning to believe all the rumors. Stan didn’t look so healthy anymore- or so happy.  He’d lost _a lot_ of weight since he quit football, and he had dark spots under his eyes which he claimed were from working late nights.  They had used to meet up at school whenever they could to chat- between classes or at lunch.  But, whenever Kyle saw Stan between classes, he was either alone or hanging out with Kenny.  He never texted him to meet up.  Stan quit all his extracurriculars except drama club, and he never went to basketball games at all.

    In April of their Junior year, right after the spring musical (wherein Kyle and Stan had totally avoided each other backstage much to everyone’s concern), Kyle snapped.  He had been keeping a list of all the rumors that were cropping up about Stan around the school- some more surprising than others- and he intended to hash this out directly, so he stuffed the list in his pocket and asked Stan to drive him home after school.  Before they got to his house, he had Stan to pull over at the park- mostly abandoned this time of day.

     _They sat on the swing set, rocking idly for a few minutes in silence.  Kyle didn’t really know how to start.  He knew he was bad at these heart-to-hearts.  It always turned into a moralistic lecture, and he wasn’t here to lecture his best friend.  He was worried.  He knew that, with how precarious their relationship was lately, if he misspoke, he might lost Stan’s friendship.  Stan didn’t push him to speak, so they just sat quietly for about half an hour until Kyle began gingerly, “Stan…”_

_Stan hummed._

_“People are…” he hesitated, his voice feeling raw and unused, “…they’re saying a lot of things about you at school.”_

_Stan didn’t respond to that, he just stretched a leg out under the swing and fixed his blue eyes Kyle, listening._

_So Kyle continued, “And, some of it isn’t…it doesn’t really sound like you- or something you’d do…under normal circumstances.” Kyle paused there, nervous to take the next step out onto thin ice.  He didn’t know how to politely tell Stan that he was afraid Brad was manipulating him._

_Stan was quiet for another moment, staring at Kyle sadly, “…Do you believe them?”_

_“I…” Kyle wanted to say no, but that’d be a lie, “I don’t know what to believe.”_

_Stan looked away._

_“_ _I don’t want to believe them,” Kyle said hastily. “It’s just…I mean, we don’t speak much anymore, and you’ve changed so much so quickly that I-”_

_“You don’t think you know me anymore,” Stan finished for him- like it proved some kind of point that he could still finish Kyle’s sentences._

_“Yeah…”_

_Stan stared at the ground for a moment, and Kyle couldn’t bring himself to interrupt whatever thought he was having- it seemed to be a deep one. Wind rustled the trees around the hiking trail on the edge of the playground and Kyle stared off into the distance as well, wondering how he’d go about introducing the list into the conversation without being pushy. Stan brought his attention back when he spoke, “Kyle…” he said finally, decisively, drawing back their previous conversation to Kyle’s mind, “you’re right.”_

_And for some reason, that felt like a punch to the gut._

_But, Stan went on. “You’ve got no idea what’s been going on with me…” Kyle just blinked and Stan continued, “Things’ve been…they’ve been good and bad and…awful. But, you haven’t been there for any of it, so you don’t know,” and Stan made it sound like an accusation._

_Kyle had never considered that, maybe this was partially his fault for never making the effort to call Stan over or ask how he’d been.  He regretted that now. “I wanna know,” he said honestly. “I’ve been worried about you…”_

_Stan just snorted and gave a self-depreciating smile._

_Kyle panicked a little and got up, digging in his pocket, “I made a list,” he said quickly, bringing out the paper and unfolding it. “It’s stuff people’ve been saying.  I dunno what’s true or not, and you don’t have to answer any of it, but I just figured…maybe we can start here?  If…that’s okay?”_

_Stan had both brows raised in surprise now, gripping the chains of his swing and looking up at where Kyle was standing. “You made a list,” he deadpanned._

_“I was concerned.”_

_Stan blinked._

_Kyle just uncreased the list, “Okay um…first thing was the smoking- I know that one’s true…you were kinda a dick about it.”_

_Stan turned his eyes down and frowned, obviously knowing exactly what Kyle was talking about. “I know…I’m so sorry about that, dude.”_

_He sounded genuine, and it was a long time ago, so Kyle just waved it off, “It’s okay, just…what’ve you smoked since then?”_

_Stan looked up in shock, “I haven’t!” he said defensively. “I felt so shitty about that whole thing afterwards, I told Brad I was done with it- I’d already tried all I wanted to. He laid off it.”_

_Kyle stared for a moment, holding back a small smile before it made it’s way onto his face.  He looked down at the list, “Speaking of Brad…”_

_Stan groaned obnoxiously, “He’s on that list?”_

_“He’s on the list a lot,” Kyle deadpanned._

_“What the fuck, Kyle? He’s none of your business.”_

_Kyle sent his best friend a glare, anger rising up in him because- here he was trying to help and Stan was being difficult already.  It always turned out like this- he'd try and help, Stan would shove him off, so he'd give up.  Not this time.  “He’s three years older than you and had you smoking weed and trespassing.  This is a list of things people are saying about you, of course he’s on the fucking list.  I know it’s none of my business, but the whole school thinks it’s everyone’s goddamn business.”_

_“Fine,” Stan snapped._

_“Fine,” Kyle clipped back._

_“Go on and read it,” Stan said, waving his hand to the list._

_Kyle narrowed his eyes and glared before looking down to the list. “People are saying that…” Kyle drifted off, his anger washing away to concern again as he remembered some of the rumors._

_“What?”_

_Kyle glanced up, “People are saying that you turned Brad down when he asked you out,” he said, meeting Stan’s stare. “That he actually…asked several times and you kept saying no. That he pestered you until you said yes.”_

_Stan frowned._

_“Is that true, Stan?  He wouldn’t leave you alone?”_

_“You said I didn’t have to answer anything,” Stan huffed._

_“You don’t…” Kyle said gently, but he took that as confirmation._

_“Next question.”_

_"I didn't really understand this next one..." Kyle admitted, "Cartman says he heard Brad's into something called...sounding?"_

_"DUDE!" Stan cried, grabbing the ropes of his swing again._

_"What's 'sounding'?" Kyle said, raising both brows._

_"No more questions about Brad!" Stan said firmly, hitting the list out of Kyle's hands so it fluttered to the ground._

_"What's sounding though?"_

_"Forget it, Kyle!"_

_Kyle rolled his eyes and picked up the list. “Well, n_ e _xt was about alcohol-”_

_“Dude, I’ve been drinking since I was ten-”_

_“No, Stan…drinking to get drunk- like really drunk.” Kyle frowned- because he’d known Stan had been drinking for so long.  He’d found beer bottles in Stan’s room in middle school and asked about it.  They’d had that argument a thousand times, he wasn’t eager to bring it up again._

_Stan seemed to curl in on himself, “It’s always with company- I haven't been getting drunk alone.”_

_Kyle didn’t relax very much._

_Stan fidgeted a little, “Actually um…Kyle, I wanna tell you something…”_

_Kyle raised a brow and sat back down in the swing beside Stan. “Yeah?”_

_“It was a few weeks ago,” Stan said carefully. “Fuck…it was stupid, Kyle, I know it was- I felt really bad about it afterwards…”_

_“What?” Kyle prompted gently._

_“I was drinking with Brad one night,” Stan said, and Kyle clenched his fists a little in his lap, anticipating something awful, but he said nothing. “It was just a couple shots, but I was pretty buzzed.  I was drunk, but it was almost my curfew, so I just…I drove myself home.”_

_And yeah, Kyle was kinda pissed that Stan would be so fucking stupid, but honestly, he was just relieved that Stan hadn’t said something like ‘I sucked his dick’.  He wasn't pissed at Stan when apparently Brad had fucking let him get in a car when he was drunk...  As if Kyle needed a better reason to hate him.  He reached out and put a hand on Stan’s shoulder to steady them both.  He was silent for a few moments, trying to think of what to say, “Stan…you’re a fucking idiot.”_

_Stan cracked a little, “Yeah, I know…I mean, it was really late and there wasn’t any traffic, but it was so fucking stupid…I can’t believe I did that.”_

_“At least you feel bad about it.”_

_Stan nodded. “I really do.”_

_Kyle nodded._

_“…What’s next on the list?” Stan said after a moment, voice small and hesitant._

_Kyle glanced down at the words on his page, skipping over several things- deeming them unimportant.  He knew what Stan was dreading most, and he couldn’t keep him waiting, anticipating it anymore. “It’s um…it’s about your weight” he said quietly. He saw Stan flinch a little out the corner of his eye, and he felt horrible and scared, afraid this would be the thing that pushed Stan too far.  But, Kyle liked to think he’d been Stan’s best friend since pre-k.  He needed to know, “Specifically where it’s all gone…” he continued quickly. “I mean, you were never fat, but you’ve lost a whole lot of weight this year, and a lot of people are worried-”_

_Stan shot up out of the swing and folded his arms over his chest, walking down to the edge of the tree line and keeping his back turned._

_Kyle didn’t follow him, just watched from where he was sitting- until Stan’s shoulders started to shake. Then it was instinctual to just go to him, but once Kyle made it about four feet away, he stopped himself and held back, locking his hands over his chest at the elbows and frowning, “Stan…we don’t have to talk about it…” he said gently._

_Stan turned around then, and Kyle was surprised to see he wasn’t crying- but he looked like he wanted to. “The first time I did it, I didn’t really know why I was doing it,” he said quickly like if he didn’t say it fast, he’d lose the nerve. “My parents had been screaming at each other for like an hour and I just…everything was so shitty- the world was just shit, I felt like shit.  And, I didn’t feel nauseous, but throwing up felt like I was getting it out, like I could puke some of the shit out and be a bit more human, y’know?”_

_Kyle really didn’t know at all, but he nodded anyway, frozen to the spot he stood._

_“The next time was like a week after I’d told you I’m gay, and I was…really bummed out.  I remembered how good I’d felt after I’d puked that time my parents fought, so I tried it again, and it worked again.  I felt all exhausted and shaky, but I brushed my teeth and the emptiness in my gut was like clarity, y’know?  So, it started.  After that, every time I was feeling depressed, I’d go find a bathroom and just…I dunno, I guess I was purging- that’s the best word for it. I was purging the shit out of my life.”_

_“…Stan,” Kyle said, his voice hoarse and pained._

_“And, I figured it was better than drinking myself into a coma, right?”_

_Kyle just stared for a minute. “Stan…you’ve gotta know this isn’t healthy.”_

_“I fucking know, Kyle! You think I don’t wanna stop!” Stan shouted, eyes wide and black.  His pupils darted over Kyle’s face for a moment then Stan seemed to lose steam.  He looked away and his shoulders sagged.  “My parents found out about it.” He stopped there for a moment, then, “They tried feeding me more food then I could keep down- like all the fucking time. It was awful.”_

_Kyle’s eyes widened._

_“At first, it had nothing to do with appearances, but when football season ended, and they had me eating all that food, all my muscle turned to fat, and I hated it.  The only way to get rid of it was to puke,” Stan’s voice cracked a little.  “Then, when I’d been puking everything I ate for too long, I didn’t think I’d have enough energy for football, and since Bradley had been paying attention to me, I really didn't care about football as much as how I looked…so I quit.”  Stan sniffled a little, his eyes growing wetter with each blink.  He was silent for another minute, trying to control his tears- then just giving up, “It's getting scary, Kyle!  I can't stop myself anymore- I just want it to stop,” he sobbed, folding in on himself._

_Kyle only hesitated a second more before rushing forward and grabbing his friend under the shoulders, holding him up- much lighter than he remembered._

_Stan clung and buried his face in Kyle’s neck, “I’m sorry,” he mumbled, “This is such pussy girly shit.”_

_“Stan, this can happen to anyone, it’s an addiction…” Kyle chastised softly, brushing his fingers through the hair at the nape of Stan’s neck.  He hadn’t seen Stan cry since fifth grade and it was kind of unnerving.  Stan had always been the strong, silent one between them… “Don’t you dare apologize,” he whispered.  Because why should Stan feel bad about coming to his best friend for comfort?- fuck, Kyle should’ve offered it up a long time earlier.  He'd seen how Stan was losing weight, fuck he'd headed him about it.  He should've done something.  All the times Stan had saved Kyle’s life, restored his faith, followed him ‘into battle’, or overturned mountains…literally-by accident but literally, and here Stan really needed him and it had been pulling teeth to get his attention on the issue.   "I'm sorry, Stan... I should've said something sooner."_

_Stan squeezed his arms around Kyle’s neck and went willingly when Kyle herded them both to a park bench to sit.  He refused to sit in Kyle’s lap, but he also refused to let go, so they ended up maneuvering themselves with Stan’s bony legs draped over Kyle’s, awkwardly clinging.  "I just wanna stop..." Stan mumbled into Kyle's shoulder._

_Kyle rubbed his ribs lightly, soothing, "You've gotta treat it like an addiction...ween yourself off.  Just try and...purge less and less over time," he said carefully.  He'd dealt with addiction once before, but he still felt ill-prepared to give advice on it._

_Stan nodded and squeezed tighter._   _They sat there, crying together and talking over how to beat addictions, for nearly an hour- until Kyle’s legs started cramping. “We should probably get going…” he suggested, knowing he’d hear it from his mother if he wasn’t home soon._

_Stan agreed and they hiked back to the car._

_The ride home was silent for awhile. The mood between them just felt too raw for words.  It was Stan who spoke, “Kyle?”_

_Kyle hummed._

_“I…I haven’t told anyone about this, and I don’t…I don’t want you to think I’ve been doing it for Bradley.”_

_“_ _I know, Stan,” Kyle said simply. “And, I won’t tell anyone if you don’t want me to.”_

_Stan nodded. “Thanks, Kyle…” he said softly.  It was silent again for a moment, just the quiet hum of the engine, like the calm before, “I had sex with him.” …the storm._

_Kyle froze, eyes wide, facing the road for so long that Stan probably worried his heart had stopped. “…What?” he finally croaked._

_Stan glanced over for a second, “Um…” he was fidgeting now, obviously uncomfortable, “I…I had sex with Bradley.”_

_And Kyle really hadn’t needed it repeated._

_“It was a new year’s party, we were in the back of somebody’s car,” Stan explained.  Kyle really hoped that Stan meant ‘somebody’ as ‘somebody that’s not me’.  He glanced at the backseat anyway. “And it was parked in a cup-du-sac, there were fireworks and stuff…and it just…it felt like the right time, y’know?”_

_“Okay…” Kyle wheezed._

_Stan kept babbling to fill the awkward gap, “He had lube and condoms and everything we needed.  And, it was kinda cramped, but I mean, there were fireworks and stuff, and he said to just go with it.  So, I did. I mean, I’m seventeen, and Chef always said we’d be ready when we’re seventeen.  I really like Bradley, and he wanted to blow me, so he did then l let him-” Stan cut himself off there, thank God, “it was good, Kyle…I mean, I didn’t know if I’d like it, but I did.  I mean, that’s pretty definitive proof that I’m gay now, I guess, right? So there’s-”_

_“Did it hurt?” Kyle cut in seriously- because it was suddenly the most important thing in the world to know._

_Stan faltered, “Well…I mean, it always kinda hurts at first.”_

_Kyle just stared for a moment then turned away, “That’s a fucking lie,” he muttered, feeling really fucking pissed and he wasn’t sure why.  The rest of the car ride was silent after that._

     The next two weeks were probably the most confusing time of Kyle’s life.  He was an emotional storm, furious that Stan had lost his virginity to that fucking ginger douchbag and then guilty for not being enthusiastic and happy for his best friend like he should have.  Stan was excited to have had sex- he was supposed to be happy for him.  But, Brad was a cocky, snake-tongued asshole.  Stan might as well’ve fucked Cartman- at least Kyle knew Stan wouldn’t get too attached to Cartman- instead he was having sex with some dipfuck that he probably thought he was in love with.

     Fuck…that hurt to think about.

     Real, physical pain…

     Like **_fuck_**.

     It didn’t make any sense.  Kyle had originally chocked it up as his concern for Stan, but he was scared it was starting to look like jealousy.  Which made even less sense…and yet perfect sense at the same time.  Stan was his best friend since his first words, now his best friend was flirting and spending all his time with some redhead that wasn’t him, experimenting with drugs and living the teenage life with a guy that wasn’t him, coming out as gay with someone that wasn’t him…having sex with someone that wasn’t him.

     Well, fuck.

** <Stan, I need to talk to you **

**> Alright dude, go ahead. **

** <Can we do this in person? It’s important **

**> I’m about to be busy…you really can’t just text? **

** <Dude  **

** <   -_-**

** <Stan? **

** <It’s been over an hour, r u even there? **

** <Stan, I said it was important **

**> Okay. Sorry. **

**> I can’t have any friends over this week. **

** <…But, it’s spring break **

**> Yea. I’m working every day. **

** <Why’d you sign on to work every day? **

**> Money. **

** <Sure. **

** <I need fifteen minutes; it’s important **

**> My parents aren’t letting me have friends over. **

** <Bullshit**

**>** **Yea…**

 

**> I'm sorry**

** <?**

** >Look, my parents are taking me to therapy this week. **

** <For the ‘thing’? **

**> Ye. **

**> I’ll have to stay at the hospital. **

** <I’m coming over. **

**> What? **

**> Dude, it’s really late. **

** >Yep. **

** >15 minutes.**

    _It was really more like twenty minutes before Kyle showed up outside Stan’s window, perched in a tree. “Open up, asshole,” he tapped on the glass._

_Stan clicked on his lamp and opened the window, grabbing Kyle’s arm to try and help him duck in.  It had been easier climbing in and out of these windows when they were eight years old and small.  Now, it involved a lot of contortion._

_“About to be busy?” Kyle deadpanned as soon as he was upright again, sending Stan a glare._

_Stan just rubbed the back of neck. “I’m a busy guy,” he said simply. He motioned toward his bed for Kyle to sit and followed him when he went, sitting beside him, their thighs touching- like a line of fire up Kyle’s leg._

_Awkward as hell._

_“Stan…I think I need to tell you something,” Kyle said slowly.  It would be a whole lot easier if he could just crawl onto Stan’s lap and kiss the fuck out of him.  He’d always kinda wondered what it would be like, but now he had good reason to try it out.  Instead, Stan was in a relationship and Kyle wasn’t a douchebag.  Kyle sighed and lifted his eyes to look over at Stan who was just staring back expectantly.  Why couldn’t he just kiss him again?  His eyes drifted down the column of Stan’s neck, his blood running cold when he noticed the dark outline of a hickey and some teeth marks._

_Right…'about to be busy'...really busy..._

_“What is it?” Stan prompted._

_Kyle wiped his palms on his pants legs suddenly feeling clammy.  That stupid fucking goddamn hickey had thrown him off kilter, “Um…we’ve known each other forever… So, you already know how I feel about you, right?”  Smooth Broflovski...real smooth._

_Stan blinked, confused. He’d obviously been expecting something totally different- some kind of crisis like a plague or some kind of robot take-over…not some faggy heart-to-heart. “I…guess?” he said, but it was a question, not an answer. “What do you mean?”_

_Kyle sighed, losing his nerve fast, “I mean, you’re my best friend- I love you, dude…” Fuck- he wasn’t saying it like he meant it. He was saying it- but not the right way… “Of everyone I know, you’re the only person I see in my future,” he tried.  Maybe that was a little bit closer.  “Like, if I picture myself old and decrepit and pissed at the world, I imagine you right there next to me all grouchy, yelling at kids to get off the lawn and wearing adult diapers or something.”_

_Stan laughed and shoved him, drawing a little smile from Kyle’s mouth.  “You walked over here in the freezing cold to give me that mental image” he said in disbelief.  “Y’know, I’ll only be gone for a week. Is that it?”_

_Kyle’s smile fell a little.  Stan was right.  Maybe in middle school a week would’ve been a big deal.  Now a week of separation was nothing.  “Not exactly,” he said carefully, forcing himself to keep eye-contact._

_Stan’s smile dropped too and his brows drew together._

_So Kyle went on, “I mean…when I say I love you, dude, I mean it. I want what’s best for you. And, you used to talk about how you don’t wanna end up stuck in this town like your parents. And, I’m glad that you’ve found a job you really enjoy- you deserve that, but I’m starting to worry-”_

_“_ _Worry?” Stan said, narrowing his eyes._

_Kyle’s mind was screaming ‘red light’, but he barreled on. “Yeah, that you’ll get so wrapped up around Brad and his deadbeat life that you won’t ever leave…” Kyle drifted off, cursing himself in his head._

_But, to his amazement, Stan wasn’t angry. He looked a little miserable, but he didn’t get that closed-off, ‘finished with you’ look that he got when he was unspeakably upset. “Kyle, you know I want out of this town more than anyone…”_

_“I know, I just…the way you’ve wrapped yourself around Brad- the fact that you’re having sex with him-”_

_“I’m not gonna spend my whole life in South Park just for some guy, Kyle…”_

_“Just some guy you’re having sex with,” Kyle deadpanned._

_“It’s not that serious! Why’re you so wrapped up around that?!” Stan huffed, glaring like he was regretting ever telling Kyle about that._

_Kyle fidgeted, not quite able to choke out ‘because you’re fucking someone who kinda looks like me but he isn’t me and you should be fucking me’.   Instead, “Because sex does all kinds of weird shit to your brain, Stan!  Oxcytocin, endorphins-”_

  _“I think I can handle it,” Stan said simply._

_“Do you love him?” Kyle pushed._

_“_ _What!” Stan said, backing away on the bed so their thighs no longer touched- a cold spot on Kyle’s leg._

_“Do you love him, Stan?”_

_Stan’s eyes widened and he blinked a few times, frowning hard. He didn’t seem to know how to answer that. “Fuck Kyle…” he floundered, “I don’t know!”_

_“You don’t know, but you’re fucking him.”_

_“Yeah!” Stan said, “Everybody messes around with someone they’re not really sure about at some point…”_

_“Not for their first fucking time, Stan!” Kyle hissed, “It’s not supposed to hurt- that’s a goddamn lie, and he made it hurt. You said he had lube and everything, but he didn’t even slow down to take care of you. He hurt you, Stan, I fucking hate him.”_

_Stan’s eyes were wide and his brows drawn down like he wanted to be really fucking pissed at his best friend, but he just wasn’t managing it. “I know you do,” he said quietly._

_Kyle held Stan’s gaze for a moment, letting that sink in and cracking under the weight of it. He grit his teeth hard, “You know I hate him…and you’re gonna stay with him…”_

_“It’s not really up to you, Kyle,” Stan said.  He still didn’t look mad, though Kyle knew he was being extremely selfish.  Stan just looked miserable like before- that fucking hickey on his neck curved down with the line of the perpetrators teeth, like a frowny face._

_“I know…” Kyle muttered, unable to bare looking at that mark.  He tugged his hat off and held it in his lap.  It was covered in snow still from the walk over.  He didn't wear it much anymore.  Honestly, he’d only worn it because it was freezing outside, but somehow it felt fitting to have it here for this.  He clenched it in his hands for something to hold onto._

_Stan covered one of Kyle’s hands with his own. “What did you come here to say?”_

_Kyle clenched his teeth again and twisted his hat in his hands.  He didn’t think he could say what he’d come here to say now- not knowing that Stan would just stay with Brad anyway.  But, he still had to know- he needed the vindication, “Did you ever think of me?” he said, staring at the floor.  “Before you got with Brad, did you ever think it could’ve been you and me instead?”_

_Stan was silent for a long time, his thumb brushing lines over the back of Kyle’s hand, and when Kyle glanced over at him in curiosity, he found Stan’s eyes wet, crying silently.  The streaks down his cheeks meant he’d been crying for awhile unnoticed, and Kyle wanted nothing more then to hold him, wipe his face and kiss him- the corners of his frown, the tear tracks under his eyes, the top of his head.  “Of course I had thought that…” Stan said, his voice soft and broken and surprisingly calm, “at one point.”_

_Any hope Kyle had of Stan’s tears meaning that he’d wanted to be with him all along shattered then.  Stan’s words were so final, Kyle cracked again, holding a sob back behind gritted teeth, hating everything that hickey meant because Stan had gone and fucked his own emotions up with his stupid sex hormones and now his crying was making Kyle cry and this was really getting ridiculous.  He didn’t want to cry every time he saw his best friend._

_But…that really wasn’t why he was crying at all._

_“You…tch- fuck,” Kyle wiped his eyes in his sleeve furiously and sniffled, “You never said anything.”_

_“It never seemed like a good idea…” Stan said quietly. “I was afraid I’d lose you.”_

_“_ _Fuck, Stan…I’m sorry…” Kyle muttered, shaking his head in disbelief and rubbing at his cheeks, “I didn’t…didn’t think I’d ever have to say it. You were always so good at this emotional bullshit, and we were so close, hell…we’ve been in each other’s minds more then once…I dunno, I guess I always thought it went without saying.”_

_Stan grabbed Kyle’s hands and pulled him to face him. “What?”_

_Kyle just blinked back the wetness._

_“What’re you saying, Kyle?” Stan pushed._

_“Fuck,” Kyle groaned, “Does it really need saying?”_

_“I think I need to hear it. Please, Kyle…”_

_Kyle stared back at Stan’s desperate expression, feeling himself closing up under the pressure, he choked, “I love you, dude- I’m always gonna love you, no matter what,” Kyle said honestly. But, he immediately knew the mistake he’d made- there was a difference between ‘I love you, dude’ and ‘I’m in love with you, Stan’. Stan probably didn’t even need to hear the latter, all Kyle probably needed to say was ‘I think we should make out,’ and Stan would’ve gotten the message. Instead, Kyle had just left his sexuality as ambiguous as before- and he knew it. “Fuck…” he muttered, trying to choke out the correction, but he couldn’t do it, he was too scared Stan would say no- he didn't care if Kyle liked guys too, he’d rather be with Brad._

_Stan smiled, looking pleased well enough, but there was a quiet shattering underneath, and Kyle knew he’d disappointed him. “You should probably get home before your parents notice you’re gone…” Stan suggested._

     So, the pattern continued. Stan made time to hang out with Kyle maybe once or twice a month, but they were mostly barreling down different roads.

     In June, Stan pulled a dick move, bringing Brad to the annual cancer benefit walk that Kyle’s mother hosted in memory of his uncle.  It was a very emotional time for the Broflovski family, and there was Brad, making shitty jokes about the more difficult-to-pronounce Jewish names on the luminaries.  It was like Stan had chosen to fuck around with Cartman after Kyle had offered himself...only it wasn't Cartman, it was fucking _Brad_. Kyle didn’t answer Stan’s texts for a month after that.

     In July, Kyle went to a leadership convention in Las Vegas and, seeing the opportunity to not get left behind as the innocent virgin amongst his friends, he messed around with a girl he met on the first night there when she came onto him really hard.  They were both seventeen, and they both agreed not to put any meaning into it so no one would get their feelings hurt.  A chubby blonde, she was warm and wet and alive around him when he pushed in, and no matter how eager he was, he had been sure to take his time prepping her- not wanting to feel like a hypocrite, or like an asshole…or like Brad.  So, he’d used lube and opened her with his fingers, coaxed her with his mouth- which was only just a little gross, he’d tasted worse.  As far as first times went, Kyle had thought it went pretty well. She seemed to enjoy herself a lot, cooing about how much she loved his cock- all that kind of stuff. He held off coming for fifteen minutes, but honestly, that was probably just because he got so goddamn nervous his balls froze up as soon as he was inside her and he couldn’t come if he tried- not that she wanted him to.

     The day before the last of convention, he found out that one of the guys he’d been hanging out with the whole time thought he was really cute- a brunette with blue eyes and glasses. Kyle had to admit he was attractive.  At first, he was hesitant, unsure how to flirt with a guy.  But, this was his chance to try intimacy with a man, and he had wanted to know what Stan had done with Brad…and if he could even be turned on by sex with a guy.  He’d never thought of himself as gay since he’d only ever been attracted to girls, but Stan kinda blew that apart, so he owed it to himself to try.  So, he went in like he was confident about it, flirting with the guy like he would a girl- and it worked!  (Probably because the guy already liked him and he knew they’d never see each other again).  Either way, Kyle didn’t expect to cry.

     It would’ve been just fine if they’d left his glasses on.  But, after they’d made-out on Kyle’s hotel bed for about fifteen minutes, negotiated positions, stripped naked, and worked the brunette open for a good fifteen minutes more, he had gone down to suck Kyle’s dick to full erection and lube him up.  Kyle was so lost on a sex high at that point that the brunette had to guide him between his legs.  He took his glasses off and set them aside, locking his legs around Kyle’s back and helping to guide him in.  It was those goddamn blue eyes that did Kyle in.  Once they got all sweaty and the brunette’s hair looked all dark and shiny, his eyes all wide and blue, and Kyle’s vision blurred in pleasure, no one could convince Kyle that he wasn’t balls-deep in his best friend since preschool- even if the shape of his face was all wrong and his body too soft.  Kyle was lucky enough that his moans took on shapeless words until after they’d both reached climax and it was an aftershock that had him groaning Stan's name- and immediately covering his mouth in embarrassment.

_Stan invited him over the week before class registration- the first time Kyle had seen him that summer since Cartman had rallied all the rednecks in the town to secede from the union and Randy Marsh had gotten caught up in it.  Stan was looking healthier now- like he’d been working out a lot and holding down more food.  Kyle regretted not having a larger part in Stan’s recovery effort.  He liked to think Brad had nothing to do with it either, but he got the feeling Stan had told him about it, and the fucker had probably been the perfect gentlemen about it- goddamn him._

_Kyle wasn’t sure why he brought up his sexcapades in Vegas- maybe it was the new hickeys dotting Stan’s clavicle and how Stan’s shirt collar just **had** to be low enough to show them off- maybe he just wanted to prove that there were people out there that still found him appealing. _

_They were lounged on Stan’s couch, watching Les Mis since Kyle hadn't seen it yet, but neither of them was really paying attention to it.  Kyle grabbed the remote and turned it off, “We haven’t spoken in a month and we’re just gonna watch TV?” he said, raising his brows.  "Worse- we're watching a musical, Stan..."_

_Stan sat up and folded his legs under himself and looking a little impatient. His hair was longer then normal and it turned up at the ends in little curls which Kyle had the strange urge to lick, “What, did you wanna talk about something?” he said curiously._

_“Well, I mean, we shouldn’t waste our time watching re-runs…”_

_“Okay,” Stan agreed, “What’s been up with you, Kyle?”_

_Leaning into the armrest, Kyle feigned nonchalance, “I dunno, I haven’t really done much interesting this summer besides go to see the mayor’s fireworks…” Stan was about to take a drink of his soda, so Kyle waited and timed it, “I mean, I lost my virginity, but that’s pretty much it…” he shrugged._

_Stan sprayed his soda across the floor- right on cue. His brows shot up, “What?!” he coughed._

_Kyle shrugged again, “I had sex,” he repeated._

_Stan stared, “When did you get a girlfriend?”_

_“…I didn’t… I don’t have one,” Kyle said, brows drawing together._

_“_ _But, you always said…” Stan seemed to be tripping over his thoughts, “You always go on and on about love- how that kinda stuff’s supposed to be special- all that…”  He sounded surprisingly upset- heartbroken and angry._

_Kyle ignored how that felt like a knife twisting in his gut.  It was Stan’s fault he’d never be with the one person who could make it special.  He’d never felt like this about anyone else- never hurt like this for anyone else.  But, Stan was so set on becoming just like Brad, so obsessed with him that he’d blown all their shared history to hell.  “Well, I guess it just felt like the right time…” Kyle said a little bitterly._

_Stan’s eyes widened just enough that Kyle knew he’d caught the reference.  Stan hid his shock just as fast though and put up a mask of happiness with alarming speed, “That’s awesome, Kyle, who was she?” he cooed._

_Kyle just glared a little, not enjoying this gloating as much as he’d anticipated. “It’s not important- just some girl in Vegas.”_

_“Ah, dude,” Stan groaned, tossing a pillow at Kyle’s head, “I told you all about my first time- down to the fireworks, and you can’t even give me a name?”  He crawled over the couch and sat on Kyle’s legs- high enough that it wasn’t suggestive, but that didn’t stop the heat from rushing up Kyle’s neck and filling his cheeks. “C’mon, who’d you screw?”_

_“Look, they’re not important!” Kyle growled, trying to kick his legs out from under Stan’s weight._

_Stan’s brows shot up, “They?!”_

_“Shiiitt…”_

_“What did you have a fucking threesome or something? Damn, Kyle…”_

_Kyle took Stan’s surprise as the opening he needed to shove him off, “No, asshole. Two separate occasions- two separate beds.”_

_Stan’s shocked expression didn’t ease a notch, “My statement stands. Damn, Kyle. You were only there for a week…”_

_It wasn’t gratifying to have Stan’s veneration, Kyle was unconsciously hoping for his disappointment, as fucked up as that sounds. “Whatever, Stan.”_

_Stan elbowed him in the knee, “C’mon, Kyle, names! You got freaky in Vegas and all I want are names, you’re getting off easy.”_

_“I think I like it better when you’re not talking to me,” Kyle snapped before he really thought about the implications._

_There was a tense beat of dead air between them. Kyle had broken the unspoken rule: don't talk about the fact that we're falling apart.  Stan immediately backed off, sliding to the other side of the couch, his smile dropped. The silence felt heavy- emptier then usual._

_“_ _Annee and Josh,” Kyle said quietly after a moment, needing to say something to fill the silence so he said their names..._

_That admission hung in the air for Stan to interpret, and he took his time with it. “Um…Josh- that’s uh…that’s a masculine name for a-”_

_“Josh was a guy,” Kyle finished for him._

_“…oh,” Stan said, eyes widening comically, like he was seeing Kyle in a whole new light. “…okay.”_

_“Yeah.”_

_Stan fidgeted a little, and Kyle hated how he could make even extreme discomfort look hot as fuck.  It was the hair- long like that and tinted dark brown at the top from summer-sun exposure.  And his eyes, the way they got all wide and pinched at the sides.  “Um…how was it?” Stan said, his voice tight and small like he was having difficulty getting words out now._

_“Good,” Kyle said shortly, “Both very good.”_

_Stan gave half a half-assed smile and nodded, “That- that’s great, dude.”_

_Kyle didn’t want to say any more on the matter- like how Josh had held him soft inside him while he’d sobbed into the mattress. Yeah, ‘both very good’ was sufficient. “So, senior year, eh? What classes are you signing up for?” he said hastily._

_Stan was all too eager to change the subject. He jumped up from the couch and ran to the kitchen to unpin his list of courses from the fridge and bring it back in to Kyle. He dropped it unceremoniously into the redhead’s lap._

_Kyle quickly scrutinized the schedule.  “Well, we should have AP Lit together, that’ll be fun,” he said, smiling- it would be the first time he’d had Stan in a class with him since sophomore year.  “But…Theater one?” he said, drawing his brows together, “Stan you’re a senior, what’s the point of starting freshman theater?”_

_Stan shrugged, “Easy class.”_

_Kyle glared a little. “Y’know, I can help you with your homework if you take harder classes, and your boss’ll understand if you need to take fewer hours- he likes you.”  Kyle knew that for a fact seeing as how Stan’s boss had gone with Stan, Brad, and Kyle to the Renaissance fair the summer before.  The only thing that kept the whole affair from being extremely awkward was a giant turkey leg which Kyle had knared at for four hours straight._

_Stan plucked his schedule from Kyle’s hand and shrugged, “I think I just need an easy class this year.”_

_Kyle frowned, “Okay, dude…I get that. But you’re taking Weight-Lifting and Bible History too…and you’ve got a free period, isn’t that enough break time?”_

_“Not everyone can handle a full course load, two sports, the school play, being mock trial captain, president of six school clubs and executive director of two state-wide organizations, Kyle,” Stan huffed. “Cut the rest of us some slack.”_

_Kyle rolled his eyes, “You make it sound like a lot more work than I actually do.” He slumped down in the cushions, “It’s you who works crazy hours so you’re stressed all the time and we can never hang out.”_

_Stan put his hands on his hips, the tone between them shifting quickly away from gentle teasing into darker territory, “Yeah right Kyle, like you’re never too busy when I call. It’s always **my** schedule that fucks up our plans,” he said sarcastically, glaring. “You always do this. You disappear all year into your clubs and sports then yell at me when I take more hours at work like **I’m** the one avoiding **you**.” _

_“What?!” Kyle said, getting up off the couch to even out the height difference, just a little taller than Stan on his feet._ _“I haven’t been avoiding you, dude.”_

_“Yeah, well, you haven’t been clearing your schedule either.”_

_“Well, maybe if you weren’t so absorbed with that stupid job at the theater and watching every movie to ever exist ever, you’d have time to join some of those clubs and sports which you used to be a part of. Like football?  Remember that one?  Y’know, you could’ve been Quarterback last year if you-”_

_Stan put up a hand to cut Kyle off there.  Kyle was happy to stop- grateful even, knowing he’d been tipping over the edge into lecture-territory where he’d really rather not be.  Stan had narrowed his eyes at this point, sensing their old argument coming up again- Kyle trying to convince him to quit his job.  “What’s your point?” he demanded._

_And Kyle backpedaled hard, sensing the hostility, the way Stan was leaning forward with one fist clenched. He’d never meant to turn this into a fight. “I just mean…your job doesn’t have to be the only thing you do outside school…you exhausted yourself all the time last year.”_

_“I enjoy my job, Kyle,” Stan said coldly. “I like the shitty customers and the shitty soundtracks to the shitty movies, smelling like shitty popcorn.”_

_“I know, but colleges don’t really care where you worked or how many hours you put in- they care about grades and sports and community service.” “_

_You’re always so fucking wrapped around college,” Stan said, rolling his eyes._

_Kyle stepped back and frowned. “One of us has to be. College is how we get outta this town, remember?”_

_Stan didn’t say anything to that. He knew Kyle was right._

_“You still wanna get out, right Stan?”_

_Stan shoved him a little, but in a friendly way which was actually kinda reassuring, “You know I do…”_

_“Well, I’ve been thinking, and I think we should go to the same college,” Kyle went on carefully. “…I know you’ve been looking into Denver, but you’re only looking at it for cost. I really think you could get scholarships to anywhere you wanted- you’ve always made good grades, so if you just get more involved outside school, you’ll get money. We can look up different options for location and discuss it in English. I don’t know what the future has for us,” he continued, “but, I know I want you with me.”_

_Stan knit his brow, “You really think I could get into the same college as you?”_

_“You’re smart, Stan.”_

_“Yeah, but not like you…”_

_Kyle frowned and reached over, closing his hand around Stan’s. “Just promise you’ll try.”_

_Stan made a distasteful face, but he nodded nonetheless._

     When senior year started, Kyle bogged himself under all AP classes, sports, and extracurriculars- just as Stan expected.  But, Stan wasn't around to bitch about it- he was still disappearing quickly from Kyle's life.  And, a busy schedule kept Kyle from feeling lonely- or having to find a replacement friend to fill all his free time.  He did have AP English Lit with Stan- the only time he'd ever see him, but the class was a blissful joke.  The teacher once had them spend a whole period discussing the difference between the concepts of Fuck and Lust and how they related to one another.  The topics were always interesting and sometimes awkward for Kyle- especially with Stan sitting right next to him and all the time.

     After having spent three years in the drama club and putting over ninety-hours of backstage time in, Kyle decided he might as well try to get National Thespians Society induction to add to his college resume.  So, he tried out for a minor part in the fall play.  It was a production called ‘Rest Assured’ about a scrooge-like man, Mr. Morlock, who worked too much and alienated his family.  Mrs. Burgess liked Kyle enough to ignore his bad acting and put him in to get the acting points he needed. Ironically, he got a part as Mr. Morlock’s lawyer, George who elopes with his secretary, Ms. Akers.

     Naturally, Kyle’s part on stage left Stan as the most experienced technician backstage, so he took over as an ASM, and it was sort of killing Kyle slowly.  The rehearsals without the tech crew had been easy, but now Stan was walking around in tight black jeans and a t-shirt with a microphone clipped around his head, barking out orders at kids, and he made it really hot somehow.  Everyone hated him because he was bossy…it was still hot.

     The week before opening, Mrs. Burgess was in a tizzy, screaming so loudly and high-pitched that no one could understand what she was saying, and her words just sounded like shrill screeches.  It scared a few of the actors, but Kyle was at home with screaming redhead women.  Burge was pissed- something about how none of the couples on stage looked like they’d touch one another if they were pressed between two tasers…or something.  So, dress week became a week of couple’s therapy every day after school. By the last night of rehearsal, all the couples had the chemistry down- one of them had it down offstage, but no one was talking about them…or the number they’d done on the props room- all the couples were making gooey eyes except Kyle and Sam.  It wasn’t that she wasn’t nice and everything, Kyle had known her for awhile, they were pretty okay friends.  He was just having trouble acting like he was interested.

_The night before opening, Stan pulled Kyle aside as he went on to do the scene where George and Ms. Akers leave the Morlock house as an engaged couple.  Stan pulled Kyle’s head down to whisper beside his ear, “Dude, just fucking kiss her.”_

_“What?!” he hissed, rearing back and glaring at Stan._

_“Tonight’s the last night, and you two are still acting like siblings on stage. Put in a kiss. Let Burge decide if she likes it- she’ll keep it if she does, if she doesn’t,” Stan shrugged, “hey, you tried.”_

_Kyle just stared, mouth hanging open for a minute. “Dude…” he said. It kind of stung, having Stan tell him to kiss someone else after he’d told him how he felt- especially seeing as how he hadn’t spoken to Kyle at all since he’d started coming to rehearsals like it was Kyle’s job to initiate every conversation they had._

_Joining Sam in their place behind the ‘office door’, he told her about the suggestion. “Sure, let’s try it…” she said easily._

_“_ _You’re really okay with it?” Kyle said, raising a brow._

_She shrugged, “Sure, our chemistry can’t get much worse.”_

_So, they went out on their cue, rushed to their spot on stage just as they were scripted, said their peace to ‘Mrs. Morlock’, gave their condolences for Mr. Morlock’s death, then Kyle announced George’s engagement, holding up Ms. Akers’ hand with the sparkling engagement ring. Sam tilted her face up to him, smiling as Ms. Akers- because this was the moment and their characters had just announced they were getting married._

_Kyle glanced behind a leg of the curtain to the ASM box where Stan was perched, watching, frowning.  He cupped Sam’s upstage cheek and leaned into her as they kissed…and kissed._

_It was the loud wolf-whistles from the lighting crew at the back of the auditorium that alerted him he’d held the kiss long enough. He pulled back and stroked a thumb ‘fondly’ over Sam’s cheek.  She looked a little stunned as she wrapped the arm around his waist as she was blocked to do. They exited stage left, arms wrapped around each other._

_They broke apart as soon as they’d cleared the curtain, receiving claps on the shoulders and backs from their fellow actors. Kyle’s eyes darted to the ASM box, but Stan had gone- probably to yell at the boys in the dressing room._

     Burge ended up keeping the kiss, and Stan didn’t speak to Kyle again during the play- so Kyle didn’t speak to him either.  No one really questioned it anymore when they were hazing each other- it wasn't such an abnormal thing these days.  

    _Opening night, just before the house would open, Stan came into the auditorium wearing his old poofball hat again, and when Butters asked about it, a kid ran up behind him and snatched it off his head. Kyle’s heart broke a little, seeing all Stan’s hair shaven off, but Stan was laughing about it, passing around a video on his phone that he’d shot of himself and Brad shaving their heads together and singing ‘I Dreamed a Dream’ from Les Mis.  Kyle knew he'd hated that movie for a reason..._

     Maybe that put Kyle a little off his game opening night, but overall, the play went really well.  Attendance on opening night was spotty- mostly because it was a school night, but by the last showing on Saturday, praise had gotten around about the play and they had a full house.

_After closing night, Kyle was in pretty high spirits as he rode with Rachel and Sam to the after party at the Stage Manager’s house.  They sang along obnoxiously with the radio as they drove over- it was late and dark on a Saturday night, and there were always bon fires at the cast parties that the kids played truth or dare around, so Kyle was looking forward to it.  Of course, it’s always when spirits are the highest that something comes along and crushes them- namely Brad._

_Former theater kids that hadn’t ever grown up and left South Park had a terrible habit of showing up at cast parties uninvited.  Unfortunately, Brad was very much invited…apparently into Stan’s pants on couch in the basement.  They’d rolled in half an hour late with Brad’s best friend and a bunch of movies, then they’d made a beeline for the basement door and disappeared.  Five minutes later, Butters made the mistake of going down there, then came running and screaming back up, going straight to Kyle for help- naturally because Stan was his responsibility.  Apparently dicks were out in the basement and Kyle was on dick-patrol._

_Luckily, Brad came up a minute later, fully clothed, “Whatever the kid says, pants stayed on!” he announced._

_That earned mixed reactions, from whoops and cheers to gagging and groans. Kyle clenched his fist, two inches from taking a swing for Stan’s honor when two tech kids, Jay and Selina grabbed his elbows and held him still.  Brad was laughing and making lewd motions to the small crowd he’d amassed when he looked over to where Kyle was seething.  His smirk wavered a little, but he didn’t comment.  His expression told Kyle everything he needed to know- Stan had told him what Kyle thought of him…and he didn’t like it one bit._

_So now, it was a matter of who held Stan’s loyalty- whose word did he trust more. Damn, this was getting really fucked up._

_“So, basement’s free now, whoever wants it,” Brad said gratuitously, and kids started milling down the steps. Madison, who lived at the house, just glared at Stan’s boyfriend distastefully._

_Kyle couldn’t agree more with an expression.  Jay and Selena held him for another full minute before they let him go and he ran downstairs to find Stan.  He jogged down and came into a family game room, furnished with large blue couches arranged in a circle.  Eight of the theater kids, party animals that they were, had started a scandalous game of ‘never have I ever’._

_“Never have I ever seen a living penis…”_

_“What, you’ve seen a dead one?”_

_It was sort of pitiful, but Kyle took a seat next to Sam anyway, just a few feet away from Stan.  Maybe this would be interesting, seeing what kind of stuff there was left that he hadn’t ‘tried’. Sam settled herself into his lap once he’d gotten comfortable, and he didn’t really have the heart to protest it after they’d been making-out on stage for the past week._

_As Kyle got filled in on what he’d missed, he kept track- Stan had put fingers down for ‘ridden a motorcycle’, ‘met a celebrity’, ‘touched a boob’, ‘had sex with someone of the same gender’, and- to Kyle’s horror ‘given oral’.  He wretched a little at the thought._

_“Never have I ever fucked a guy in Las Vegas,” Stan said, narrowing his eyes directly at Kyle when his turn came around._

_Kyle shot him an open-mouthed glare, totally blindsided by the harshness of it even as the room went up in gasps and everyone turned to stare at him.  Forcibly outted, Kyle put down his seventh finger, and when his turn came around, “Never have I ever gotten fucked by a ginger.”_

_That earned a couple snorts as eyes shot over to Stan who just shrugged, “Your loss, Ky.”_

_Fuck, even that old petname pissed Kyle off right now.  Why was Stan being such a dick?  Why was he being so nonchalant about his sex life- these things had once been so secretive with him… What the fuck had Kyle done to piss him off like this? -fingers down for ‘french-kissing’, ‘smoking pot’- surprisingly Stan kept his finger on ‘threesome’._

_“Never have I ever fucked someone I'd never call back,” Stan said vindictively._

_One finger left, Kyle flicked Stan off with a glare, shooing Sam from his lap and getting up from the couch.  The only reason Stan was acting like this was Brad- he just knew it.  He couldn’t explain it, but that boy was the root of all evil, and he knew it._ _“Never have I ever shredded my best friend’s heart for an asshole,” he growled, shoving his way out of the circle only to run straight into Brad coming back into the basement._

_“Fuck yes! Are we playing ‘Never Have I Ever?” he said obnoxiously._

_Kyle shoved him back towards the door. Hard. “Get the fuck out,” he said darkly.  No one needed to know what kind of shit Brad had done- not when they’d immediately link it to Stan.  Ballsack that he was, Brad didn’t put up a fight, just gave a confused look and headed back upstairs like he was told.  Kyle waited a moment, glancing back at Stan’s shellshocked expression before he took the stairs himself._

_Twenty minutes later, Stan came up to the kitchen to compete in a banana deep-throating contest, and that’s when Kyle made his hasty escape outside.  Hadn’t Stan put enough gross shit down his throat tonight?_

_Kyle was fuming- literally creating plumes of hot steam in the cold air when he went out and sat with Kenny by the fire- the guidance counselor had forced Kenny into theater, saying that singing should help him get over his crippling ‘shyness’ which was making him so antisocial- plus, Kenny had always been an amazing singer._

_“Have you noticed Stan’s been acting weird lately?” Kyle said miserably, looking over to his quiet friend._

_Kenny shrugged and spoke, muffled into his hood. “He’s been distant…” he offered._

_“Sure, that’s one way to put it.”_

_“...Why?”_

_Kyle sighed. “He’s been dating Brad, what like…a year now? He just seems like a totally different person sometimes and we don’t ever speak anymore.”_

_“If he’s pulling away, you can’t hold him back,” Kenny said, putting an arm over Kyle’s shoulder, attempting to be comforting._

_“That’s just it, I don’t know that he is, pulling away,” Kyle said, “Every time we hang out it’s because he’s called me over or he’s come up to talk to me first.  I mean, I give as good as I get and all that, but it doesn’t seem like he’s pulling away.  He just seems…different, like a clone of Brad.”_

_“People change…”_

_“Not like this,” Kyle said resolutely, totally sure of himself, “…he’s being controlled by his boyfriend and it’s disgusting.”_

_Kenny just stared incredulously then got up from his seat in frustration. “Maybe you’re the one trying to control him,” he accused, pointing a finger.  “Lay off him, Kyle…before you lose him.”  That said, Kenny walked up the path in the dark and back into the house._

_Kyle watched him go, the sliding door shutting behind him, closing the noise of the party inside and leaving Kyle with the crackle of embers and the chirping of crickets.  He grabbed a stick and poked at the dying fire restlessly, wondering where Kenny got the idea he’d been trying to control Stan- he didn’t see how that was possible since he only ever saw Stan in English class these days…and they never spoke anymore._

_The party interrupted his thoughts as it roared briefly through the crack in the sliding door as it opened then was stamped out again as it shut.  Stan.  Of course it was Stan, following him out here like a fucking ghost._

_He came down the path and stood patiently beside the fire ring for a really long time, as if he was awaiting Kyle’s permission before he’d come in and sit. “I won the contest…” he said conversationally- a goddamn ice breaker after like half an hour of silence._

_“Congrats. Don’t ever tell me about it,” Kyle said, voice clipped. “Ever…I’m serious.”_

_“You and bananas,” Stan chuckled under his breath and took a seat- fucking finally, the asshole was shivering.  He was worrying his bottom lip between his teeth and he had no business looking so tempting, all hard lines and shadows dancing around his face in the firelight. Not fair. Kyle glared down at the fire instead._

_It crackled serenely between them, gaining a little life when Stan reached down and fed it some twigs and leaves. It flared up then would putter out again. “It needs a dry log.” -“Is there any real firewood?” They said, almost in unison, glancing at each other and cracking up a little at the coincidence, that their minds had been working in tandem._

_The silence felt just a little friendlier after laughter, and Stan filled it tenderly, “Did you mean what you said in there?”_

_Kyle looked up over the fire at him, “What?”_

_“In the basement just before you left…” Stan explained slowly, “that I…shredded…your heart.” He mouthed the word as if it tasted funny._

_Kyle dropped his gaze back to the fire, “Yeah.”_

_Stan was silent again for a long moment, and Kyle held back the urge to fill it was a blabbering explanation of what he’d meant by what he’d said. Stan found his voice eventually. “Kyle, I know you don’t like Bradley-”_

_“Understatement.”_

_Stan huffed patiently, pointedly not getting frustrated with being interrupted. “Okay…okay, fine. What I’m trying to say is- this has to stop. This ugly thing between you two.  He likes to play dumb like he doesn’t notice it, but the way he talks about you with his friends behind my back…” Stan shook his head in disgust.  “And the way you talk about him to my face… You two can’t expect me to take sides. I love you both-”_

_“You love him now?” Kyle cut in._

_“I said I love you both.”_

_“Which includes him.”_

_“Yes. It does,” Stan said firmly, his expression hardened but sad. “I’m sorry, Kyle, but it does. I love him…” he drifted off for a second, sighing heavily, exhaustion all over his face, “and I love you as well.”_

_“But, you’re with **him** ,” Kyle pushed._

_Stan flinched, “Yes.”_

_“So, you picked him over me,” Kyle said simply, deadpanned, prodding at the embers with a stick like that would somehow make this casual._

_Stan just narrowed his eyes. “Stop it, Kyle,” he warned._

_“I’m just trying to understand!” Kyle said defensively, talking with his hands and voice raising with frustration. “How could you let me say all that stuff I said and just go on fucking him like it doesn’t matter to you? He’s a ginger asshole- rude and disrespectful, a deadbeat version of Cartman and you’re letting him dick you!  Why did you pick him over your best friend of thirteen years when you_ knew _how I feel-?!”_

“BECAUSE OF THIS! _” Stan snapped, screaming and stamping himself up from his chair to his feet. “Because you are so_ **goddamned entitled**! _”_

_Kyle shrunk back a little, downright frightened by Stan’s sudden outburst. He’d finally pushed too far…_

_Stan was_ furious _, “You think you poured your heart out to me?  ‘I love you, dude’?  You think that’s intimate?  Fuck, how about- I have a goddamn addiction to puking my guts up because I literally hate everything I am and I sicken myself- oh, and by the way, it’s literally killing me now, so my parents are stuffing me in the hospital so they don’t have to watch.  How about that for private?”_

_“Stan-”_

_“But no, I tell you all this, and you act like you could've done something.  You immediately assume my eating disorder is somehow **your** fault- You! You! You! Like you could’ve somehow swooped in and saved me from hating everything in my life with what- your love- when you’re the most disappointing piece of **shit** I know!” _

_Kyle flinched._

_Stan had gotten closer as he’d screamed his heart out, leaning over Kyle’s chair now and pointing at his chest accusingly like his jabbing finger was a knife he could impale him with, “You’re a fucking_ hypocrite _! Denouncing my relationship because I couldn’t tell_ **you** _I was in love with my goddamn boyfriend of eighteen months before I fucked him- You got me all fucked up in the head that night, coming over and saying it could’ve been us- that it was supposed to be special!  Do you even know ‘_ Josh’s’ _last name?- You don’t give a shit about sentiment!  I already knew you don’t need me half as much as I need you- you didn’t have whore yourself out in Vegas to rub it in my face, you fucking prick!”_

_Kyle had his back pressed into the seat, trying to back out of Stan’s space, but Stan kept right up in his face._

_And, Stan wasn’t done. “And you expect I’m gonna follow you to college?! Ha!" he laughed directly in Kyle's face "- I’m supposed to tailor-fit my life to be just like yours?  -caught up in the university-bound fast track like some prissy shitdick because your life is so perfect, and if I live like you, maybe I’ll finally be_ **happy** _."  Stan laughed again bitterly, growling through grit teeth.  "Maybe the only time I’m fucking happy is when I’ve got that goddamn ginger asshole’s prick four inches down my throat- because maybe he’s almost got your hair; maybe if I squint really hard, I can ignore all the differences, the freckles and how green his eyes are and how fucking skinny he is and pretend he’s you while I get fucked- and I’m almost happy because no matter how much he looks like you, he’s **not. you.** ”_ _  
_

_Kyle’s ears were rushing with blood as Stan stormed away back toward the party._

_At the sliding door, half the theater department had heard the yelling and come outside to see the show. Everyone was dead silent, speechless as Stan approached. He glared straight at Sam, “Get off Kyle’s dick while you can, trust me.”_

_She just stared, mouth gaping open._

_Stan passed through the crowd and everyone left him a wide berth until he passed Kenny who patted his shoulder, “Four inches…” he said sympathetically._

_“Shut the fuck up, Kenny.”_

     Kyle had sat out by that fire all night as the embers crackled, never quite going out completely.  He never lifted a hand to prod them with a stick, never quite worked up the energy to even think about everything Stan had said- everything it meant about the future he’d always imagined for himself.  He barely even gathered the energy to shiver as the temperature approached freezing overnight.  

      At some point, Butters brought him out a blanket and tucked it around his shoulders, but that must’ve been before the party completely ended and everyone else went home.

     Madison’s father had come out and driven him home in the morning. He’d stumbled a little on the doorstep as he went up, sleep-exhausted and still frozen. When the door opened to let him in, he’d fallen right into his mothers arms, shaking uncontrollably as she stroked his hair and coddled him.

     A week later, he’d made contact with Aaron- Brad’s weird best friend.  He’d heard a lot of rumors about Brad through Autumn, a girl he’d met in biology who had moved to Arizona two years ago.  Before she’d left South Park, she’d been in school with Brad, and she knew a lot about the way he treated the people he dated.  It turned out that Brad and Aaron had a huge falling out after the party as well- about how Brad was a selfish, manipulative asshole- kind of ironic, really.  Aaron and Autumn, together, provided Kyle with enough information and actual, documented images of facebook conversations and instagram feeds to prove that Brad was emotionally abusive and hurtful to Stan, spreading gross, disrespectful rumors about their sex life and generally taking advantage of Stan’s sweet, trusting nature.

     Kyle had never hated anyone so deeply- not even Cartman.  That was saying something.  No matter how much Stan wouldn’t want to hear any of this- especially from Kyle, no matter how much this proved his point that Kyle was controlling, Stan needed to know what kinds of things Brad was saying about him- no one deserved this kind of shit from their partner.  The things Brad said- that he could get Stan to do whatever he wanted by telling him to just go with it, that Stan would beg for it doggy style with his ass in the air, that he’d eat shit if he just said.  Kyle _knew_ none of it could be true- there was no way on earth Stan had fallen that low.  

     Worse, none of Brad’s previous boyfriends or girlfriends had ever broken up with him.  That asshole had always broken his partners' self-esteem so low that they just let him shit all over them, then he broke _their_ hearts.  Now, he was trying to convince Stan to have a 'long-distance relationship' once he picked a college.  He wanted to keep his leash on Stan and fuck around while he was away, and Kyle hadn’t felt murderous in years, but he considered it a few times as he wrote up his message to Stan.  He hated knowing that he'd introduced his best friend to this monster, but he had to set it right.  Seeing as how Stan wouldn’t speak to him again and how he had already blocked his phone number- and his accounts on most social media sites, Kyle was reduced to sending a message over Facebook- the only place Stan never updated. Most people knew not to message him there by now, so Stan probably didn't even know he had the alerts enabled on his phone.  

     Stan never responded to the message, but two days later, Aaron texted Kyle to tell him Stan had broken up with Brad.  Kyle shouldn’t have felt as accomplished as he did- he knew how he’d just convinced his best friend to destroy the one last thing that made him somewhat happy, but at the same time, Stan had gotten himself out of an abusive relationship and hurt Brad's pride in the process, so he was proud.  Brad's gross 'heartbroken' wibbling on Facebook was the most satisfying thing in the world. On impulse, Kyle sent another message over facebook, a funny comic about break-ups, something to maybe cheer Stan up.  

                **< I heard what happened.  Hope you're okay, dude.**

     The response was instant this time.

**> That had nothing to do with you or what you sent me the other day, the timing was coincidental. I’m moving seats in English. I'm also dropping out of the group book project, and I dont want to talk to you again.**

     Kyle couldn’t breathe as he read the text, his chest too tight, constricting him. He really shouldn’t have responded.

** <Y'know, you could've just nutted up and punched me like a man.**

**> How about fuck you. I’m done. **

     English class got a thousand times more awkward after that- because Stan _didn’t_ move.  He kept his seat right next to Kyle, so Kyle kept his seat right next to Stan and they just rolled waves of tension into the air like heat off a convection oven.

     They still ate lunch at the same table- because old habits die hard.  And, while their friendship had gone up in flames, they were both still friends with a lot of the same people and it just wouldn’t be fair to tell the other he had to fuck off and leave.  In fact, true to their word, they really didn’t ever speak or make eye-contact again.  And, supposedly, they both got to keep all their other friends, that had originally seemed like the silent agreement, but it was obvious which side Cartman took, and Kenny maintained that he had warned Kyle not to push Stan and he had gotten what was coming to him.

     So really, that was it. That was how Kyle Broflovski lost the three people closest to him right at the last second…and by ‘last second’, of course that means halfway through senior year. There were still six months of boring, lonely, nine AP-class school days to go through. Then graduation.

     ...

 

     Which officially concludes all the recap necessary to understand why Kyle Broflovski was bored as hell the summer after graduation.  All the other graduated teenagers were out hooking up, finding that one person they’d always wanted to fuck with in High School but never had the nerve.

      Meanwhile, Kyle wasn’t even leaving the house most days. The only sexual partner he’d had since July the year before was his right hand- which was pretty pitiful, honestly.  He had expected a lot more of himself- that he’d move on easily, and it wasn’t for lack of opportunity.  During football season Kyle had a small harem of girls chasing him.  Then, there were five girls (and two guys) in the spring musical (which Stan had totally dropped out of) who had wanted to date and or fuck Kyle, but he’d turned them all down. He couldn’t totally explain why- he’d liked each of them well enough, but it felt like he’d be lying to them.

     He’d be the first to admit that Stan was right about a lot of the things he’d said over that fire pit- accepting his accusations as fact was a huge step in Kyle’s process of healing and growing after the fallout.  But, Stan had been wrong on one major account.

     He’d needed Stan a hell of a lot more then Stan gave him credit for.

     Not that he’d ever admit _that_.

     So yeah, it could’ve been different, but Kyle knew better then to want it to be.  He had accepted that things were better this way.  He and Stan had become toxic somewhere along the way, and it was good to get their space.  He’d accepted his flaws and was working independently to fix them- meaning he spent a lot of time doing a whole lot of nothing.  And Stan- well, he assumed that Stan was moving on with life, hanging out with friends from work and getting ready for college- wherever he’d decided to go.

     It would be so easy to just walk down the street and check in on him, knock on the door and accept whatever punches were thrown just for the sake of knowing Stan was still willing to throw them.  But, Kyle couldn’t bring himself to put Stan through the heartache- if that’s what it would cause him.

     So, Kyle was stuck in a stalemate until he could leave South Park for college in Washington DC.  He expected Stan would just wait him out, that if anyone cracked, it would be him.  He was miserable enough to consider it every day.  Honestly, Kyle even kinda missed Cartman- at least for the challenges he'd provided. He hadn’t even shit on Kyle’s doorstep since March.  Kyle really shouldn’t feel bereft without shit on his front porch.  He was so lonely he considered making online friends to pass the time until he could leave for DC.  But, online friends didn’t help much- there was something hollow about a relationship built on words alone.  Kyle was cracking, and he expected he’d lose his resolve any day now and go knock on Stan’s door, try and kiss him once just to know what it was like- even if it got him socked in the face.

     He didn’t expect a rock to crash into his window at two in the morning mid-August accompanied by a loud grumbling, “yus’pieca shit!” just below his window, “u’pn up!”

     Kyle scrambled out of bed, yanking his window open. Maybe it’d been nine months since he’d heard it directed at him, but he’d recognize that voice forever.  

     “What the fuck?” he deadpanned when he peaked his head out and found that Stan had fallen face down in the dirt beside his back porch.  He turned from the window, rushing from his room and flying down the stairs two at a time, running quietly so as not to wake his parents.  He ran through the kitchen, out the back door to where Stan was sprawled out in his yard.  

     For a minute, Kyle thought he’d passed out, but when he turned his old friend over, Stan jerked himself awake, coughing and sniffling.  His eyes were unfocused and pupils blown.  Kyle sighed and reached down to help him get up off the ground- he resisted, of course, sitting back in Kyle’s grip as he pulled.  “C’mon, Stan. Don’t do this…just let me take you home.” Even that would be too much contact with Stan for Kyle to handle, but he’d do it.

     Stan latched onto Kyle’s neck the next time he bent to get a hold under his arms, he pulled Kyle down, holding behind his shoulders and tugging Kyle until he fell forward onto him with an ‘oof’.  “Fuckin' luf you,” Stan spat hatefully. “Fuck you.”

     Kyle struggled in his grip, “Stan, let go,” he said quietly.

     “Fuck you, Kyal.”

     The only way Kyle could manage to get anywhere in Stan’s hold was by shifting his knees up to frame Stan’s hips so he could pull him up- which caused all kinds of unwanted friction.

     “Let me go!” he huffed again, urgently whispering so his parents hopefully wouldn’t wake up.

     He tugged himself back on his knees until he broke free of Stan’s grip- at which point he quickly pinned Stan’s hands to the ground to keep him from grabbing again.  Of course, with Kyle mounted over Stan, holding his wrists down, Stan’s stupid, drunk brain flew into autopilot, assuming that this was going down a totally different route.  His hips jerked up erratically, crashing into Kyle’s.  He moaned- and Kyle winced at the sound.  He’d never needed to know what Stan would sound like making sex noises. Now it was too much knowledge for his brain to store- a way to break his own heart again later in the shower.

     On that note, he pushed himself up, hauling Stan upright and using the momentum to pull him forward.  He’d lost weight again- a disconcerting observation. But, he was light enough for Kyle to haul him upright and get an arm under his shoulder.

     “Ugh…” Kyle groaned, “Of fucking course this is how you show up in my life again-” he muttered as he got them moving on foot, “Pissass drunk and horny."

     Stan was mumbling something unintelligible, and he made matters more difficult by stopping every ten feet to try and stroke Kyle’s hair or kiss at him.  Halfway to Stan’s house, he broke down in the road and started sobbing uncontrollably.  When Kyle tried pulling, he fought it, “I fuckin love you, asshole!” he cried, somehow pronouncing his words more clearly though bouts of tears.  “I fucking love you an’ y’kill’d me.”

     “What are you talking about, Stan?”  Kyle groaned, pulling on his old friend’s arms- dragging him slowly over the pavement. “You’re the one that ended us. You told me off in front of everyone… I never lived it down.”

     Stan shook his head like a dog shaking water off, “No nonono…" he beat a fist into his chest, "m' heart hurs 'cusa you…”

     “Just because you’re hurting doesn’t mean it’s not your fault, asshole,” Kyle grumbled.  He was more than willing to accept his part of the blame for this, but he’d spent too long beating himself up over things that weren't his fault. He knew Stan had his own share of guilt.

     It was slow-going, getting Stan to his house while he threw a drunken fit.  Eventually, he wore himself out and stopped struggling.  At that point, Kyle could mostly just carry him.  But, when Stan stopped using his legs completely, he became dead weight.  Kyle groaned a little. They were still a few houses away- but, Kyle _had_ been playing football since he was eight and basketball since he was nine, he was still somewhat in-shape, he was strong enough.  He balanced Stan upright long enough to bend his knees and get him situated over his shoulder- then he lifted.

     The Marshes hadn’t ever moved their house key.  It was still stashed under that stupid conspicuously-fake rock in their front yard.  It was strange to think of how easy it would’ve been for Kyle to just come invade Stan’s space all this time.  It was a little difficult getting Stan in the door while holding him over his shoulder, and Kyle’s muscles were screaming for mercy- he’d always been a runner, wasn’t built for this kind of lifting and Stan was heavier than a prop piece.  But, somehow, he made it into the house, creeping quietly behind a passed-out Randy Marsh on the couch and up the stairs.  Shelley had moved out a year ago, so Kyle stuck close to her closed door as he crept down the hall, avoiding Sharon Marsh’s bedroom.

     Stan’s bedroom door was shut, and when Kyle got them both inside he was surprised to find the bed neatly made and the floor clear of bottles and garbage. The room looked hardly-touched, so Kyle figured Stan must’ve been out drinking somewhere else.  He hadn’t stumbled into Kyle’s backyard from drinking in his own room.  Kyle wasn't sure if that was good or bad.

     He gave a quiet groan as he deposited Stan onto his bed, sitting him upright.  Stan blinked awake blearily, but he didn’t seem very conscious of where he was.  At least he was keeping quiet so far.  So, Kyle leaned over him, brushing a palm over Stan’s cheek to rub away tear tracks.  Stan started mumbling at that, so Kyle put a thumb over his mouth.  “You’re a mess,” he whispered.  Stan was covered in mud and grass and gravel.

     Kyle bit his lip and hesitated.  Stan’s parents would be pissed if they came in and found him like this.  He reeked of alcohol, and if Kyle let him lie back on his bed, he’d get wet mud all over the covers.  So, no matter how awkward it was for him, he took care of his old best friend.  

     He took his time, moving quietly to remove Stan’s dirty clothes, pulling the shirt up over his head and pointedly _not_ staring at the dark lines of Stan’s ribs and abs or the dusting of dark hair that hadn't been there last time Kyle had seen Stan shirtless.  He laid Stan back to remove his shoes and socks then pants, and luckily, Stan seemed too out-of-it to make any drunken advances- or to get excited about where Kyle’s hands were.  He was actually very quiet throughout Kyle’s treatment, pliant to whispered directions. He just stared owlishly, lips parted slightly, watching his alienated best friend paying attention to him for the first time in months.  Kyle just worked silently, wondering how much of this Stan would actually remember in the morning.

     Kyle left him alone for a moment to go quietly get a damp washcloth, a towel, a trashcan, a glass of water, and some aspirin.  When he came back, Stan had rolled over and smashed his face into the mattress to sleep, butt sticking up in the air comically.  Kyle snorted once, but he wasn’t feeling in a very light mood.  He shut the door behind himself and set the waste bin on the floor beside Stan’s bed- just in case.  He placed the water bottle under the lamp, two aspirins beside it.  Then, he stacked Stan’s pillows and stretched the towel out over them.  He looked down at his best friend- hating himself for still thinking of Stan as that, sighed, and put an arm under Stan’s stomach, moving his knees out from under him.  Stan woke to Kyle’s touch and helped, crawling up to recline on the stack of pillows propped up for him.  Kyle ran the washcloth over his face once he settled, wiping away the mud and tear tracks.

     That done, Kyle reached over and clicked off the lamp. He turned to leave, all too familiar with the layout of Stan's bedroom in the dark, but Stan’s fingers brushed his arm as he went, trying to grab him and missing.

     Stan whined, “Ky…”

     Kyle turned back and frowned.

     Stan’s eyes were shimmering again and he was dragging in silent gasps of air, his face screwed up in pain. “I s-still love you,” he whispered, and Kyle could practically hear ‘ _but I don’t want to_ ’ in Stan’s next shaky breath and the way his face scrunched up in pain.

     And, Kyle had been okay.  He really had.  He’d been okay with this for months- this little ‘break up’.  He hadn’t cried about it.  He lived on.  But, the way Stan said he was in still love- miserable, like it was physically eating him alive- like it was a deadly parasite and he was _so scared_ of it.  Kyle was in tears immediately, balling up his fists.

     Stan was drunk.  Maybe he was telling the truth, but as soon as he was sober, he’d shove this raw emotion down and store it away under layers of anger.  Kyle would never be able to reach these emotions that Stan had, and that was the most cruel thing in the world now that he knew they were there.  They were there and they were for him but they were _hurting_ Stan and Stan wouldn’t let him have them…

     Kyle ducked his head and coughed out a muffled sob into his own shoulder, wiping his eyes.  Why had everything gone so _wrong_?  He went back to Stan’s bedside and wiped the fresh tears from his face with the washcloth, shushing him like a child.  He squeezed his eyes shut against the fresh heat of his own crying and leaned down to kiss Stan’s forehead, wincing against the warmth of Stan’s body and holding his lips there longer than was probably necessary.  

     He pulled away quickly, but Stan's fingers had locked into the front of his shirt.  Kyle carefully detached Stan's grip and reached over him, untucking the bed-sheets from the opposite side and folding them over him, pressing them around Stan’s shoulders and kissing his temple quickly. “No more…” he whispered, pleading.  "Okay, Stan?  You're done..." he said, hoping for Stan's sake that was true.

     Kyle walked home slowly, looking up at the night sky just for a little oblivion.  He promised himself he wouldn't do this again- hurt himself over Stan.  He wouldn't fall for him again.  It had been such a huge mistake the first time- every goddamn pop culture resource warned against developing feelings for your best friend.  He could confirm the futility of trying.  He'd made a huge ass of himself, hurt Stan, let Stan hurt _him_ , and royally fucked their friendship...  

     It was really best to let dead things lie.  

     And he would have if it wasn't for the comet that crashed into the Cinema where Stan worked just one week after Stan showed up at his house.  For about fifteen minutes, the whole town made a big deal about it.  News crews rolled in, people crowded the streets, the police drew up a tape line, scientists rolled up in trucks.  But, once the comet itself had been hauled up out of the crater and the scientists had gathered all the samples and readings they needed, people lost interest, drifting away from the wreckage and leaving behind a bent and broken-looking husk of a building, smashed in and falling down.

     Half an hour after the comet touched down, Kyle came to see the building out of curiosity.  He found one lone figure standing in the parking lot, staring at the destruction with his hands stuffed in his pockets pensively.  If it wasn't for the fact that it was _this_ building that was destroyed, Kyle would've left him alone- 'let dead things lie' so to say- but this was like some kind of message from God- that things could be different now if they'd just let them...Stan's visit the other night had made a crack in the wall and all Kyle needed to do was give it a tap and it would all crumble down.  It was too appealing to resist.  

     Kyle approached slowly, feeling a little more confident than was probably wise.  “Is it wrong to hope Brad was inside…?” he said, honestly curious- he felt it was a totally justified desire and after the things that asshole had said about him, Kyle expected Stan to feel the same.

     Stan glanced back over his shoulder, but he didn’t seem all that surprised to see Kyle behind him.  He closed off his posture, folding his arms over his chest and pretending to ignore Kyle's presence- and his comment.  He stared dejectedly at the wreckage of the building in silence, but Kyle didn't leave like he probably hoped.  Instead, Kyle stepped up beside him and mirrored his closed-off posture, folding his arms over his chest.  Stan sighed, “I told you not to talk to me,” he grumbled.

     “You also said you were _done_ ,” Kyle countered, glancing over at Stan to his right.  

     Stan’s expression tightened and he seemed to understand what Kyle was talking about- like he was recalling his last words to him, and maybe he had some recollection of his drunken visit or maybe he’d noticed Kyle’s scent all over him when he woke up.  'Fuck you. I'm done' didn't exactly mean showing up drunk outside someone's window and yelling ' _I fuckin love you, asshole_ '.  

     So, this was the moment of truth.  If Stan just shut Kyle out and said 'I am done' that would be it. Kyle would leave him alone forever in confidence that Stan was strong enough to ignore whatever feelings he had left- stronger than him.  But, Stan didn't say anything at all- just pursed his lips and hugged his arms tighter around his chest.

     Kyle looked back at the wreckage of the theater, feeling raw. “I can’t believe it’s gone…” he mused, trying to make conversation.  This place had always kind of been a monument to the walls that had grown up between them.  It was the place that seemed to consume Stan's soul and drag him away all the time, and seeing it crushed like this was sort of...vindicating.

     It took a long, awkward minute, and Kyle was almost giving up on staying here, but Stan finally responded. “It was a shitty theater…” he muttered.

     “I won’t disagree with that,” Kyle replied, unable to hold back a tight grin, barely able to contain his relief behind his face- wanting to jump and whoop that _fucking hell yeah, Stan was speaking to him_. “I think I got a ringworm here once.”

     “Yeah well, you can’t afford cleaning supplies when you only charge two dollars a ticket,” Stan explained wryly, and Kyle saw him turn his head out of the corner of his eye.

     He could feel Stan’s gaze on him and he smiled a little, facing forward pointedly.  “I’m glad you survived this place.”

     “Shut up-”

     “ _If you have Mesothelomia from exposure to asbestos_ -” Kyle said, dropping his voice and mimicking the Johnson’s Law Firm commercial that always came on television.

     Stan shoved him and interrupted the performance, but he didn’t quite hold back a snort of laughter, and Kyle was grinning uncontrollably.  Stan still got his humor- after nine months apart, he was still laughing at his lame-ass jokes.

     “It is a shame though…” Kyle muttered once the joke had grown stale in the air.

     Stan glanced over at him again. “What? That it’s gone?"

     "Yeah."

     "No it’s not.”

     Kyle knit his brow and turned to meet Stan's look look, first sober eye-contact they’d made since December, “I thought you _liked_ working here?”

     Stan shrugged, “Of course I did- it got me out of the house…” He was quiet for a long moment, but Kyle didn’t interrupt his thoughts. They just stood in amiable silence for awhile.  And Kyle was so immensely relieved that Stan was speaking to him at all, he kind of felt like his legs might give out at any moment.  So, he was patient until Stan spoke again, “That’s why I worked so much,” he said slowly, “My parents would never say 'no' to me leaving if I could tell ’em I was going to work. I hated all the yelling and the stupidity at home- and I could eat however I wanted if I was gone.”

     Kyle nodded. “That makes sense…” 

     Stan turned and stared for a long while, and Kyle felt like an ant under a microscope, but he kept facing forward, trying to look oblivious until Stan would break the silence again- fuck always the silence.  It was nice to know it wash't permanent this time.  Stan sighed, “My parents were just…when they learned about the purging, they were so worried about me. They pulled back on a lot of my freedom, kept a close watch on me at all times- or had Shelley do it.” He took a deep breath and looked away, back at the wreckage. “I didn’t mean to stop hanging out with you. I know that’s why you could get so controlling and clingy sometimes.  I just…I couldn’t explain to you why I wasn’t around without telling you about the puking- and then once I did tell you, I didn’t understand why you were being such a dick about my job and Brad so I kinda resented you.”

     Kyle nodded again. "I guess I should admit I was kinda jealous," he said, glaring at the theater. “You were spending all your time here and...I know I was being a dick,” he admitted. “I didn’t realize it at the time, though…I can get like that, thinking I’m always right.” Stan snorted his agreement, but Kyle didn't have it in him to be annoyed right now.  He just looked over and watched Stan staring down at the blacktop, contemplating something, hands stuffed in his pockets. His hair had grown out again.  Kyle liked it.  

     "...A demolition crew is coming at noon..." Stan said slowly, thinking something over.

     Kyle knit his brow, "So?"

     "So, they've already cleared the site to be destroyed- y'know, checked for valuables and salvage."

     "...So?" Kyle repeated.

     Stan seemed to ask himself the same question, looking up at the building again.  He seemed to find his answer because he nodded resolutely.  "Fuck this place..." he muttered, quietly ruthless.  Then, Stan jolted from where he stood, running to his car, "Get in," he yelled.  

     Kyle hesitated, startled by the abruptness, "Really?"

     "Yeah, dude, c'mon.  What's the problem?"

     Kyle stared blankly for a moment.  What the hell was happening?  He hadn't ridden in Stan's car since the night of his seventeenth birthday when Stan had driven him up the scenic highway outside town to see South Park's lights from the mountainside.  It was one of his last good memories of Stan before the fighting.  He'd fallen asleep on the ride back and woken to find Stan's jacket bunched up under his cheek.  "No problem," he assured, running and jumping into the passenger seat.  

     When Stan drove up to his house and pulled into his driveway, Kyle got out without question.  When Stan came running out of the garage with two ten-gallon jugs of gasoline, there were no questions to ask.

    "Fuck yes..." Kyle whispered, understanding immediately and dashing into the garage where Stan had just come out.  He grabbed two more tanks.  Stan's dad always kept plenty of extra gas, paranoid that the prices would rise dramatically.  Together, Stan and Kyle loaded forty gallons of gasoline into the back of Stan's car.      

     It was beautiful, the single-minded fury of two heartbroken young men seeking redemption in the eyes of the one person who had always mattered most.  Of course, there was fumbling with the heavy jugs, waddling under their weight, goofy snickers and bumping into one another- then there was the time Stan dropped a jug as he tried to lift it over the busted popcorn machine, sending gasoline splashing across the carpet.  Kyle erupted into laughter on that one.  But, overall, it was really just amazing.  Both Stan and Kyle were giddy with excitement as Kyle lit the match (since Stan was splashed with gas), and bent to ignite the small corner of carpet that they'd pulled halfway out the front door to act as the fuse. The fire licked across the long winding trail of fuel they'd created, igniting a snake of flames, barreling towards the center- towards the big bang.  Both boys broke out and ran to the end of the parking lot to watch from a safe distance.  

     The building was silent as they stared, catching their breath.  A small flicker of light visible through the smashed front windows was all there was to prove that something unusual was going on inside.  Stan and Kyle glanced at each other nervously.  Maybe they hadn't fully connected the fuse trail to the puddle of gasoline?  A second later, the windows of the building busted out as the flames exploded through the walls, shaking the ground and sending chunks of wood and ceiling plaster rocketing twenty feet up into the air.  

      "HOLY SHIT!" Stan screamed, and they both ducked and covered their heads. Even at such a great distance, they could feel the heat of the flame.   

     After the initial explosion, Kyle started cackling, both fists raised up into the air, "Oh my God, YES!" he yelled, whooping and bouncing a little on the balls of his feet.  

      Stan started laughing too- somewhere between laughter and screaming.  He turned to Kyle, giddy with adrenaline, "Holy shit, dude, I've fucking missed you!" he shouted over the roaring flames, grinning madly as Kyle celebrated the destruction of the monument to everything awful he had become- the drugs, the fights, blowing all his money on movies, ditching Kyle...weird sex.

     Kyle turned then, dropping flat onto his feet, still genuinely smiling but sobering up a little.  "You too, man..." he said honestly.  He reached over and pulled Stan close, draping an arm around his shoulder and leaning into him a little so they could watch the cinema go up in flames side by side.  

     "Fuck this place," Stan said for a second time.  "Seriously, fuck it."  Kyle just raised an incredulous brow, smirking.  "This place turned me into something...I don't even know, man.  The other day," Stan leaned close to Kyle's ear confidentially, "the assistant manager suggested I get gauges."

     Kyle reeled, " _Whaat?"_

     "Yeah!" 

     "Like the kind those douchey scene kids wear?  The big holes in their ears?"

     "Yeah, dude!" Stan said.  "Everyone said it'd look hot.  Another week here and I might've done it, too!"

     Kyle pulled a face, looking over at the side of Stan's head, considering the idea and dismissing it quickly. "Please don't.  That shit makes your ears smell funny."

     Stan laughed, "Course not.  Wouldn't want my ear-stink to offend you," he drawled, leaning back into Kyle's side.

     Kyle snorted and gave in to the urge, craning his neck and nuzzling into Stan's hair- soft as he'd imagined, brushing his nose against the shell of Stan's ear.  He hummed, "Mmm, thanks," he chuckled. 

     Stan tensed a little for just a second, and Kyle almost pulled away so he wouldn't make things uncomfortable- until Stan started turning under his arm, spinning so they were chest-to-chest.  "I'm serious, Kyle...fuck this place..."

     Kyle pulled his head back so his eyes could focus properly on Stan's face, "Okay, dude..." he mumbled agreeably.  

     Stan had hugged up against him, tucked under his arm, and they hadn't been this close- sober- since middle school.  Part of him wanted to be bitter with Stan still, yeah- maybe his senior year of high school had been shitty and lonely- but it hadn't been completely Stan's fault that they fell apart.  As much as Kyle blamed him for dating Brad, he couldn't ignore all the good reasons Stan had for _not_  dating _him_ , and it certainly wasn't Stan's fault that Kyle hadn't taken the initiative to move on.  At this point, Kyle was just so overwhelmingly glad that they were speaking again- abrupt as it was.  That comet seriously was some kind of sign from God, Stan's drunken visit was a green light, and here they were, wrapped up in each other's arms and it felt perfect.

     "Dude," Stan whispered back.

     Kyle had just enough time to smile because this meant he and Stan were cool now- before Stan cupped the back of his head and pulled him down and kissed him.  He'd been thinking of this, missing Stan's scent, and now he was suddenly awash with it, eyes wide in shock, almost reeling back.  He grabbed onto Stan's hips to keep himself upright as Stan's tongue brushed his top lip.  Kyle closed his eyes tight, and using his hold on Stan's waist, he pulled Stan flush against him and opened his mouth just a crack, kissing back gently but firmly enough to bend Stan back at the spine.  

     The fire crackled behind them as the theater burned, heating the air in waves as Kyle leaned over the heat rolling off Stan's body.  He held Stan tight, fists clenching into the sides of his shirt as he sucked on Stan's lips, licked back into his mouth.  It wasn't a battle for dominance so much as a dance of tongues, no leaders and no rhythm.  Kyle wasn't really in the presence of mind to recognize the magnanimity of what they were doing- a kiss eighteen years in the making with someone who had gone from knowing him better than he knew himself to a complete stranger.  All he was really thinking about was- teeth.  He could feel Stan's teeth, nibbling softly at his lips on every press- like he was starving for something.  It was surprising- a little rough- not something Kyle expected from Stan.  He'd never deliberately kissed with teeth, but he followed Stan's lead, pulling off just for a moment, breathing in Stan's exhale before gently nipping his bottom lip where it hung open.  

     A high whining noise escaped Stan's throat and he latched back onto Kyle's mouth, licking past his lips fiercely.  Deeper in his mouth, he tasted faintly like booze, but it was buried under layers of coffee and strawberries and syrup- meaning it was probably from awhile ago, long enough that Stan was sober now.  Kyle winced, pinching his eyes tighter closed, reminding himself of the months of silence, and he kept kissing- because flawed as it was, this was so much better then silence.  

     Stan pulled back a moment later, breathless, balancing his forehead against Kyle's and holding Kyle's face in his hands.  There was a moment of silent intimacy, just standing there with their foreheads pressed together, Stan's job going up in flames.  If this kiss had happened three years ago, Kyle would've burst out into giddy laughter, but now it was a serious thing.  He opened his eyes and stared, a little cross-eyed at the solemn expression Stan was wearing.  His brows knit in concern, a little intimidated that Stan was suddenly so grave after kissing him.  "...Stan?" he whispered.  

     A heavy breath escaped Stan's wet lips and leaned in to nuzzle his nose against Kyle's cheek, the hands that cupped Kyle's face sliding down to frame his neck, "...I want you..." he whispered lowly.  "So much, Kyle...so long- I've thought...." he drifted off, unsure.  "...I thought we could be so good- fuck..."

    Kyle hesitated, holding himself still against the urge to bolt.  He wasn't sure he trusted this coming from Stan.  Things had...they'd gotten pretty ugly in the end, and he hadn't missed the feeling of glares on the back of his neck in English class.  He hadn't missed the new rumors going around about him- he hadn't missed the way Kenny had blamed him for all Stan's problems as if Stan had been venting to him furiously.  Yeah, Kyle knew Stan still had his share of anger- just like he had his own.  

     But that  _kiss_.  

     Dammit, this was real.  

     Closing his eyes, Kyle spread his hands over the small of Stan's back and leaned into his touch.  "I'd like that..." he replied, giving a nod of his confirmation.  

     Stan's face cracked into a smile, big and genuine.  His thumbs smoothed over Kyle's cheeks, blue eyes bore into him, and Kyle thought they were gonna kiss again.  Instead, Stan just backed away, "Perfect...this is so perfect," he said, "My parents are away visiting my sister, I'll bring us to my house," he offered.

     "Okay..." Kyle said, nodding again.  This was a wet dream come true- fucking in Stan's childhood room...in his bed- where Kyle had fallen asleep so many times as a kid.    

     Stan gave a brief grin, but it quickly lost volume.  He reached down and took Kyle's hand pulling him back towards the car.  His smile had died away by the time Kyle was seated in the passenger side, watching him start up the car.  He looked over at the redhead, suddenly nervous for some reason.  "Kyle..." he said.  "Um...before we do this you should know..." he stopped to take a breath, and Kyle didn't interrupt.  "I'm kinda with someone right now."

     Kyle blanked.  "What."

     "I'm technically in a relationship," Stan explained guiltily.  

     "What?!" Kyle repeated needlessly.  "Stan!"

     "It doesn't really matter!" Stan said defensively.  

     " _Doesn't matter_?" Kyle cried incredulously.  "What the fuck?!  How can it not matter?!  What did you get a beard or something?"

     Stan glared, "The whole town knows I'm gay, Kyle, why would I need a beard?" he reminded.  "It's really not important- it's just this...thing.

     Kyle just stared, mouth gaping open, until Stan reached over and tried to touch his shoulder, then he jolted away, swatting the hand, "No, Stan!  We're not doing anything if you're in a relationship!  That's  _cheating_!"

     Stan rolled his eyes and backed off.  "It's just Cartman."

     Kyle froze, "What."

     "I'm dating Cartman.  We'd be cheating on _Cartman_."

     Kyle stared for a long moment until that really sunk in- then he flinched hard.  "What?!"

     Stan huffed and fell back into his seat, "Can we just go?  I'll explain on the way."  Kyle didn't reply at all, he just stared blankly out the windshield, so Stan started up the car- they needed to get away from the burning theater anyway before the cops showed up.  He pulled out of the parking lot, glancing over at Kyle as soon as he hit the road.  "Kyle?"  

     No response.

     Stan sighed, "Kyle, I can explain-"

     "This is a joke," Kyle muttered, like a prayer, "You're kidding, trying to freak me out," he forced a laugh.

     "No, dude," Stan said simply.  "It's not a joke.  Look-"

     "We hate Cartman-"  At least, Kyle had thought so- he'd thought that would never change.

     "C'mon, he's not as bad as he used to be."

     "He released all the animals from Park County Animal Control into a Pride Festival..." Kyle deadpanned, feeling numb like his blood wasn't flowing properly.  "Last week."

     Stan fidgeted, "Well, that might've saved people from disease what with the rat infestation-"

     "I can't believe you're defending him!"

     "He's my boyfriend..."

     Kyle screamed.  He dropped his hands to the dashboard and _screamed_.

     "KYLE!" Stan yelled, slapping at his arm.  "Stop!  Stop it!  It's not like I _like_ him or anything!"

     "Then why the fuck are you _dating_ him?!"

     Stan stared back at Kyle for a moment then looked back to the road, sighed, and turned the wheel, driving to the side of the road and parking halfway in the grass.  Kyle was silent, clenching his fists in his lap and breathing heavily as Stan stopped the car and shut it off.  The engine cut off, leaving them in dead silence again.  Stan turned back to face Kyle, "This year has fucking _killed me_ , Kyle.  It's been...it's been boring and lonely and I...I haven't slept more than four hours a night since I left that goddamn message on fucking Facebook."

     Kyle blinked, realizing now that Stan was coming clean.  He braced himself.  

     "I'd just stare at the wall, going over what I'd said to you in my head and I...I regretted it so goddamn- fuck..." Stan's voice cracked a little and gripped the steering wheel until his knuckles went white.  "I regret what I said at that party.  I just...after you came back from Vegas bragging about the meaningless sex, I spent so much time wondering if _anything_ you said was true because you obviously didn't care if your first time was special like you'd said.  You only cared about _mine_ \- you got so upset when I told you that it hurt.  I didn't understand _why_."

     Kyle wanted to reach over and touch him, but he was afraid he'd make Stan break down and cry.

     "I tried to rationalize it," Stan said, then he paused, trying to gather how he wanted to start his explanation. "...When we were younger," he said slowly, "you used to call me all the time with nothing to say- mid-afternoon, two in the morning, it didn't matter, I'd pick up just to feel connected to you because, y'know, you were the only goddamn person who actually _called._  Everyone else would send a goddamn text message, but not you.  You always had to have your voice heard...  But over time, you stopped calling me. You just...fucking...stopped. "  He smiled a little wryly and dropped his forehead to his hands.  "Maybe we were slipping apart because we didn't have classes together or something, but you weren't fighting it at all- you left it up to me to hold us together and I just...I couldn't!"  

     Kyle swallowed.  He hadn't ever realized Stan felt like that.  

     Stan was wringing his hands over the leather of the steering wheel, bracing himself.  "Once you knew I liked boys, I couldn't see you without wanting to taste you, touch you, _be with_ you- but being with you would be so much worse because I knew you...you couldn't feel like I did.  You weren't even fighting to keep me as a friend, the space growing between us didn't hurt you like it hurt me..."  

     He glanced over at Kyle, suddenly putting him on the spot, but Kyle couldn't find anything to say.  Even now, he couldn't admit how much he needed Stan too.

     So, Stan kept on without it, "You were...you were **_not_ ** my world, Kyle," he said like an accusation like Kyle was the one who had suggested the idea.  He glared hard, then sighed, deflating.  "You were my goddamn universe- I built my fucking _life_ around you.  You were the _only_ person I ever let in- the only one I could really be myself around...  And, every time my parents let me out, I came right to you because I _needed_ you.  But you were killing me.  Every time I thought I could do it- tell you how I felt, you'd say something about how cute some girl was or you'd laugh at someone's wisecrack about gay people, and I had to swallow my tongue or agree with you.  So, maybe when we joined the Drama club, I liked the attention people were giving me, and I gravitated toward the guys who actually _noticed_ me."

     "Stan what does this-"

     "No!" Stan shouted, "Let me finish!" he gripped the steering wheel and closed his eyes tight like someone was forcing a sword through his gut.  "I can't pretend that I didn't like Brad.  I didn't date him just to replace you...but, you did have me a little fucked in the head at the time.  I was kinda desperate to find someone to fill my time and he seemed like a good guy.  I needed someone to get me away from you, to distract me until I could get over my stupid- I don't know if I'd call it a crush...it was so much worse.  Brad did that.  He got me away.  And, I was scared that if I saw you, I'd start missing you too much to resist clinging to you.  So, I avoided you.  But, I wasn't strong enough to keep away completely, so I kept calling...once or twice a month.  Just enough to get my fix."  He sat back and dropped the wheel, looking over at Kyle who was having difficulty breathing.  "That's what you said, wasn't it?  With addictions?  You've gotta ween yourself off."

     "Stan..." Kyle said, voice sticking in his throat.  "What does this have to do with Cartman...?"  Because that was really all Kyle wanted to know- the rest of this was like driving a knife through his throat.

     Stan folded his hands into his lap.  "I was hurting, Kyle...that's my point," he muttered.  "You never spoke to me after what I said in that message- and I had known you wouldn't, but I missed your voice.  It fucking _hurt_ to have that confirmation that you wouldn't fight for us...that you didn't care like I did."  He sighed, "And, because you never spoke, I could never begin to forgive you for making up all that bullshit about loving the person you lose your virginity to- and for that night when you almost said you loved me more than as your best friend- and for how you chose to be blind to everything that could've changed if you'd just said the word.   It was good that you didn't talk to me...I needed to realize that I can live without you, but...I was hurting and I wanted you to hurt too.  I wanted you to feel _something_."

     Kyle narrowed his eyes, "You thought I'd be _jealous_ -?"

     "No! ...No, but...you didn't like it when I was dating Brad because you hated him- and I just figured...who do you hate more than Cartman?"

     "Stan..."

     "So, I came up to him with the idea," Stan explained, and Kyle pinched his eyes shut against how that stung- that _Stan_ had asked  _Cartman_ out. "I told him it would hurt you, and he was all for it...but...you really didn't know about it?"

     Kyle shook his head, still numb and shocked.  "I didn't hear anything about it..."

     "Yeah, I didn't really consider how embarrassing it'd be..." Stan muttered.  "Once we'd gone on a few dates, I was still keeping it secret and I guess I just...I kinda lost track of why I wanted people to know about it in the first place.  He's not _that_ bad..."

     "You like him...?"

     Stan raised both brows, eyes going wide, "No!  No, no _fuck_!  No, I tolerate him...  I've never even touched him!  Sick!"

     Kyle shook his head, still lost in disbelief.  

     "I guess I realized it was stupid..." Stan muttered.  "But, it was easier to just stay with him, y'know?  At least I had someone to hang out with."  He turned and looked at Kyle, and Kyle could feel his eyes on him.  He knew what Stan meant.  It wasn't like  _Kyle_ had never gone to Cartman for company.  "I mean, he was no you," Stan went on.  "I was still really fucking depressed.  I kept up in school and stuff, but I got back into drugs, I drank more than before-"

     "Yeah, I saw that," Kyle blurted.

     Stan was silent for a second, "Yeah...I'm sorry about that," he muttered.  "It-it was a rough night," he explained.  "I was at Clyde's party and Brad showed up with Aaron and he was still totally a deadbeat asshole, but somehow _he_ got to be with his best friend like...making out and shit, and I just...drank- a lot...I dunno, after about eight beers it really bugged me that  _we_ weren't together."

     Kyle sighed, running a hand up through his hair, "It's okay."

     "You took care of me though...I remember some of it..." Stan mumbled.  "So, thanks."

     The car went silent for a long while, neither of them quite sure how to break the stillness.  It felt too fragile.  Kyle was having difficulty absorbing everything Stan had said.  He'd never known, never understood how deeply Stan felt.  They'd always made fun of him for how sensitive he was- for feeling so much more than the other guys.  Kyle didn't know what to do with that emotion when it was directed at him.  He hadn't ever been loved like this...  "Let's just go," he said simply, after much thought.

     Stan studied him keenly, looking kinda like he wanted to crawl over the seat and kiss him again, then nodded, "Yeah, okay..." he said, putting his key back in the ignition.  

     They were silent for the rest of the car ride, and when they reached Stan's house, there wasn't much ceremony in parking the car in the garage and heading inside.  Stan yelled through the empty house, just to be sure his parents hadn't come back home for no reason- they weren't supposed to until Wednesday, but he had to be sure.  "It's empty," he confirmed, turning back to Kyle as they walked into the kitchen.  Stan dropped his car keys onto the counter. "We're alone."

     Kyle just nodded with a small smile and stepped closer, putting his hands back on Stan's hips.  Stan got the cue and leaned forward to connect their lips softly at first.  They kissed chastely while Kyle thought back to all those times he'd called Stan with nothing to say.  At the time, he hadn't ever thought their friendship would lead to this, but now this felt so unavoidable he just had to have this.  Maybe they were jumping over a lot of prelude, skipping the reconstruction of their friendship- all that stuff, but they both seemed to realize there was no time for that.  Kyle was moving out to DC in two weeks, and he had no idea what Stan was doing, but he wasn't coming with him.  

     Kyle reached back to shuck off his light jacket, and Stan reached in to help, apparently unable to keep his hands away.  They toed off their shoes and Kyle kicked them aside, never leaving Stan's mouth.  Stan's hands were back at Kyle's jaw, the nape of his neck, in his hair, but they moved once Kyle licked between his lips, going down to grab Kyle's wrists and move his hands from his hips onto his ass.

     "Couch?" Stan mumbled against his lips.

     "I want your bed," Kyle replied honestly, squeezing at the flesh in his hands- because damn he'd wanted to for so long.  

     Stan could only give a weak hum of approval, rolling his hips up into Kyle's where they were pressed together.  He didn't say a word, just dropped away from Kyle's mouth, pressed a short lingering kiss to his neck, and backed off, holding Kyle's wrist and pulling him along up the stairs.  When they got to his room, he shut the door- just because it felt right to.  Kyle let himself in, moving across the room and taking a seat on the side of the bed while Stan went to his dresser drawer and fumbled around for lube and condoms.  His room was still very...empty.  Maybe everything was put away in the closet, but Stan had cleaned the place of his posters and books and games so the room was empty of everything but furniture.  

     Kyle reached down and pulled his shirt off up over his head while he waited, and when Stan turned around, his eyes widened a little.  "What?" Kyle said.

     Stan strode to the bed and set aside the supplies he'd gotten in favor of dropping a knee beside Kyle's thigh and reaching out one hand to flatten it against Kyle's sternum.  "I knew I liked boys, but...damn, Ky..." he whispered.

     Kyle glanced down at his chest.  He'd lost some muscle mass since the last football season had ended, but his arms had kept their wiry muscle definition from playing street basketball.  He'd never been self-conscious about his body, but he'd never felt prideful either.  With Stan staring at him nervously- like something fragile and edible, he had the strange urge to strip down and offer up his bare skin for worship.  

     Stan leaned back before he could though, moving across the room and pulling his phone out of his pocket.  He hooked it up into some speakers and turned the volume on low to a soft song.  

     "Dude, really?" Kyle deadpanned.  

     "You don't want music?" Stan said, looking a little confused as he turned back around.  A slow piano melody played behind him, partnered with a soft drum beat and a melodic voice.  "I've always had music, I don't-"

     Kyle really didn't want to think of the times Stan was referring to by 'always', so he moved on.  He reached down and tugged his socks off, "No, it's fine...just...'Stay With Me'?  Really?"

     Stan turned on spot, glancing nervously back at the stereo, "Ah- it's Pandora, I can't really pick what they play, but if you don't like it, I can change the channel-"

     Honestly, Kyle didn't even want music- he wanted to hear every breath and sigh they could make, but Stan had put it down really low so as not to be distracting, and he seemed more comfortable with it on.  So, "It's okay..." he said, scooting back on the bed and holding out his hands, "C'mere..."  And Stan did, he set his phone up on top of the stereo and came to the bed, kneeling beside Kyle.  

     "How're we doing this?" Stan said carefully.  

     Kyle hadn't really considered that.  It wasn't like him not to think twenty steps ahead with something like this, but he hadn't.  He really hadn't expected this opportunity would ever be here.  "Uh...I trust you- if you wanna..."  How does one put it when they're telling their best friend since pre-k that they're welcome to fuck them in the ass?  "I mean- I was on top with Josh, so I've never had anyone do it before, but if you _really_ -"

     "Then we shouldn't," Stan decided, nodding a little.  

     Kyle faltered a little, realizing he'd maybe misstepped.  It wasn't like they even had to go all the way- they'd only just started talking again an hour ago. "Oh- I didn't mean that we _have_ to-" 

     "It's okay, Kyle," Stan said, scooting closer and slowly, carefully swinging a leg over Kyle's lap so he was poised with his legs spread over him.  "I've done this before."

     And  _oh_ they were on completely different pages for a minute there.  Kyle caught up quickly though, grabbing the backs of Stan's legs and pulling him forward for a kiss.  Stan kept it chaster than he would've liked, pulling away too soon, but when Stan simply moved to draw his tongue down to his jaw instead, Kyle bit back his complaints in favor of stretching his neck to make room.  He pulled on Stan's thighs until Stan got the message and pressed his hips flush against his, grinding down until he had Kyle's breathing ragged.  "I can't believe this is happening..." he panted, not meaning to say it aloud.

     Stan smiled- Kyle could feel his lips stretch up against his neck, teasing like maybe he realized that Kyle hadn't meant to speak.  "I can't believe it's finally  _you,_ " he mumbled.  

     Kyle bit back a little laugh.  There was nothing funny about this- except everything.  He was giddy- fuck.  "I can't believe you're dating Cartman..." he said, snorting.

     "I can't believe you didn't _know_ I'm dating Cartman," Stan countered, and he'd brought up a hand to gently flick at a nipple.

     "Tch...ah-like I said....I didn't hear anything about it."

     Stan smirked, rolling his hips slowly over Kyle's more smoothly now- with rhythm, "What _did_ you hear about me?" he said, hinting to sexual undertones.

     Kyle sent him a little glare and dropped his legs flat to the bed, "Honestly, I've been trying to ignore anything having to do with you..."

     It looked like Stan was a little hurt by that, but he brushed it off quickly, leaning down and brushing his lips against Kyle's shoulder, "You're doing a terrible job of it."  

     Kyle belted out a laugh as Stan spread his legs wider and leaned back on him, licking over his clavicle until he found a good spot to latch onto and start sucking.  "I don't think you'll be complaining," he teased.

     Mouth busy on Kyle's chest, Stan looked up and raised both brows, grinning.  The hand he'd spread out on Kyle's stomach slid down between his legs and found his dick, giving a friendly squeeze through his pants that had Kyle gasping out in surprise- and Stan's mouth broke away from Kyle's skin immediately, "Whoa..."

     "What?" Kyle said, sitting up a little panicked.  

     A slow smile spread over Stan's lips and he reached down to pull off his shirt.  Kyle relaxed as Stan stripped- he'd been afraid for a moment that Stan was backing out.  But, it seemed like he was just further on board, "Didn't I mention?  ...Four goddamn inches."

     Kyle laughed, "Oh my God..." he groaned, grinning and reaching up to touch gentle fingertips to Stan's stomach, the lines that led down into his shorts, the coarse hair that trailed under his navel.  He was thin still, but it looked like he'd been eating enough (and holding it down) since last week, and he had some nice muscle coming in.  

     While Kyle was preoccupied, stroking and tracing Stan's ribs and abs, Stan had leaned back to let him, watching him with wide blue eyes, but he quickly got impatient with that and leaned forward to unfasten Kyle's pants.  Kyle's hands settled on Stan's shoulders, rubbing and squeezing the muscle there as Stan opened his fly for him.  He lifted his hips to help Stan get his pants down under his butt and off- he didn't expect Stan to take his boxer-briefs down at the same time.  He hissed at the sudden nakedness, but Stan was back on him in a second, shushing him in a kiss.  Kyle reached down to start at getting Stan's pants, but he found Stan's hands busy with the same task and they bumped knuckles and tangled fingers and generally got in each others' way.  

     Stan started cracking up laughing into Kyle's mouth, slapping his hands away.  "Dude!" he said, grinning and leaning back.  "Chill..."

     Kyle just smiled at his own impatience and Stan's amusement- God, he'd missed that laugh.  A warm feeling filling up his chest even as all his blood was rushing south.  He hadn't expected he'd ever get to have desperate-last minute-'I need you'-sex with his old best friend, but if he'd ever even thought of it (he had), he never thought it would be like this- warm and lush, but also easy and funny.  

     Once Stan had wiggled his pants off, he crawled back over Kyle's legs, careful not to brush too much skin yet.  He nuzzled his nose into Kyle's cheek.  "I heard a lot about _you_..." he mumbled off-handedly.  "Probably should've ignored it, but I didn't," he admitted.  

     Kyle hesitated, "Like what?"

     "Like- you had Shauna and Emily drooling for you backstage during the spring show," Stan mumbled, "and that Jay and Kegan were all over your dick too."  Stan cracked an eye open, and that was all the warning Kyle had before he rolled his hips down, dragging his bare erection over said dick, voice pitched low as if the thought of other people finding Kyle hot was turning him on. "I thought about it," he explained between licks to the back of Kyle's jaw and his ear. "I thought about you fucking them...thought you must be gorgeous- all worked up and hot like this, falling apart under their hands and mouths..."

     Kyle squirmed, reaching up and tangling his fingers in Stan's hair, "I didn't do anything with them-tch...I haven't...not since Vegas..."

     Stan paused in his ministrations and backed up, shocked for a second. Then he grinned a little, "Good. I _hated_ them for it," he said.  "And I was just imagining it..."   He pulled back, eyes half-lidded, but instead of leaning down and kissing him again like Kyle kinda hoped he would- (he kiss Stan nonstop for the rest of his life and it wouldn't be enough), Stan leaned down to nuzzle the cut of muscle that ribbed down his stomach until he came to the wisps of hair under his navel.  "It's...browner than I expected," he mumbled, shocking Kyle when he brought a few hairs between his lips and tugged them straight with his teeth.  

     "S-shit..." Kyle jolted a little, cock twitching.  

     Stan's brow quirked up a notch, taking note of Kyle's reaction.  He hadn't looked down to see Kyle's dick yet, but when he did, he let out a low hum of hunger that Kyle tried not to get too flattered by.  Stan had seen his dick before in the showers after football practice, but that had been almost three years ago now, and Kyle knew he'd grown since then, plus he was half-erect now which would make a difference.  Knowing what Stan must be comparing him to, it didn't mean he was all that impressive.  He knew he was a little above average- which apparently ran in the family (something he'd never  _wanted_ to know), but compared to Stan's previous partner, he must seem large.  Stan's wasn't anything to scoff at either- not quite as long as Kyle, but wider and uncut.  

     Stan was silent for a moment, reaching out carefully and taking Kyle in hand, weighing him in his palm, "Dude, I'm gonna suck you, okay?"

     One of Kyle's legs jerked a little, "Oh my God..." he mumbled, head falling back.  

     That was all the confirmation Stan seemed to need before he was ducking down and wrapping his lips around Kyle, laving his tongue over and under the tip before opening his jaw and working his way down the shaft bit by bit, groaning at the taste.  The wet sounds of his mouth drowned out the soft music, and Kyle went breathless.  He had gotten this from Josh, but that was the only other time anyone had done this to him, and it paled in comparison.  Maybe Kyle was a little biased since this was  _Stan_ on his dick and, fuck, he loved this guy- but judging by the way Stan was opening his throat, Kyle thought it might also be that he was just really fucking good at this.  Stan got him down to the hilt until his nose was pressed into Kyle's rusty hair, swallowing around him, and Kyle groused under the attention, toes curling in the sheets, hands gripping Stan's hair loosely.  He was cursing up a storm.  

     And Stan pulled off way too soon.  

     Kyle whined high in his throat.  

     "Ah, don't be such a baby, dude," Stan chastised, his voice rough in his throat from it's overuse- and fuck that was hot. "You wanna blow a load _now_ or you wanna fuck me?"

     "Oh my God..." Kyle repeated, a little hazy.  

     Stan laughed, eyes crinkling at the corners.  He leaned forward to kiss at Kyle's jaw, and Kyle frowned because he'd thought Stan was coming for his lips.  Why hadn't he kissed his lips?  They were _right_ fucking _there_...  So reached up and grabbed the side of Stan's face, drawing him up and back in to his mouth, and he came willingly, but his mouth stayed stubbornly closed when Kyle licked at it.  Stan was smiling when he pulled away though, "Dude, I just sucked you..." he reminded needlessly.  

     "Yeah?" Kyle deadpanned, a little confused.  

     Stan's grin brightened like a light turning on, and he surged back forward and kissed Kyle harder, licking into his mouth with confidence this time.  And yeah, Kyle could taste his own dick on Stan's tongue which was a little weird, but he didn't care because he could also taste _Stan,_ and the mixture of those two things was giving him a head rush.  When Stan leaned back and pressed his forehead to Kyle's, he was panting for breath.  "I don't need much prep, just gimme a minute."  He reached back and grabbed the bottle of lube, snapping it open, about to pour some on his hand.  

     ' _I don't need much prep?_ '  Fuck that.  Kyle glared and snatched the bottle, a little flare of anger rising up through the haze, "I'm gonna prep you so well we could shove this up your ass," he said, holding up the bottle.  

     Stan snorted, "Dude..." he muttered, brows raised.  "Your dirty talk is fuckin' weird..." 

     "I'm serious, Stan," Kyle huffed, grabbing the backs of his legs and pulling him forward again so that his hips were flush up against his stomach.  "Let me..." 

     Stan seemed a little surprised but didn't fight it, he came forward and ground his hips into Kyle's stomach idly while Kyle squeezed some lube out into his palm and rubbed it liberally over his fingers.  When he reached down between Stan's legs, Stan spread them helpfully, and it was so hot to have Stan so snug on top of him that Kyle let out a low moan.  He spent a bit of time just rubbing slick around the outside of Stan's hole, getting him accustomed to the feeling of being touched, taking it nice and slow with soft music playing behind them.  Kyle liked to think he was a patient guy, but he did have his limits, and Stan wasn't helping by rolling his body hot against him impatiently.  So, he pushed in the one finger slowly, carefully, surprised again by how tight it was.  It wasn't like he'd shoved his fingers in many assholes, and he knew they were pretty much always tight, but Stan was definitely clenching up.  

     So, Kyle kissed his shoulder tenderly, whispering reassuring things like, " _You're so fucking gorgeous_...", " _Wanted this so much"_ , and " _Man, fuck Cartman, we're gonna be so good"_.  He stroked at Stan's chest with his free hand, traced down his stomach and took his dick in hand, stroking slowly and fingering the foreskin- (maybe he was a little fascinated by it), and Stan tangled his fingers up in his Kyle's hair and tugged again (which oh fuck, Kyle never knew how much he  _liked_ that), mumbling Kyle's name and bleary confirmations to everything Kyle said.  He loosened enough for Kyle to slip a second finger in without any complaint.  So, holding Stan close in his lap, Kyle worked his two fingers slowly up to the knuckle, relishing the way Stan opened up for him gradually.  It took a lot more work than Josh had, but Stan was coming around- and getting really impatient about it.

     Kyle poised a third finger against Stan's hole, and twisted his wrist on the hand he was jerking Stan off in, "You ready?"

     "Ah- yeah...c'mon..." Stan groused and he tightened up for some reason.

     Startled, Kyle pulled his head back to stare, "You're so tight..." he muttered, frowning as he put in the third finger with much more care.  Did Stan always clench up like this?  He'd said he was experienced, but Kyle was starting to doubt it.  He didn't have much to compare to, but he knew Josh hadn't clenched up like this.  Either Stan was really nervous or he never learned how to relax.

     Stan grinned a little crookedly, eyes pinched closed, "Yeah, gonna be so good, c'mon...I'm ready."

     "No, Stan- you're  _really_ tight, you've gotta relax first."  And Kyle was starting to get a little pissed off.  What was going on with Stan?  No kissing after giving head?  ' _I don't need much prep_ '?  Tight equals _good_?!  For who exactly?   Stan's eyes blinked open, confused that Kyle sounded so frustrated.  But, Kyle was  _not_ gonna half-ass this, not gonna rush.  Yeah- he was eager, yeah he'd love to just shove Stan into the mattress and fuck him hard, or grab his shoulders and pull him on and have him ride dirty...but he  _wouldn't_ because it could be so much better than that- so much better than whatever Stan was obviously used to from Brad.  God, Kyle hadn't thought he could hate that guy more than he already did... _  
_

     But, Stan just groaned, working himself down on Kyle's fingers impatiently, "Ugh, c'mon dude, just put in in me..." 

     "You're not ready!"

     "I think I know when I'm ready," Stan deadpanned.

     "I'm sure you do, but I know you're _not_."

     Stan growled a little, actually sounding kinda angry, "C'mon, Kyle, I'm good," he insisted.  "This can't be fun for you.  I'm fucking ready."  

     Kyle glared, catching Stan's little slip, "It's not just about me, Stan," he huffed, reaching up behind Stan's back and holding the back of his head to keep his gaze, fingers slipping into soft black hair.  "I promise, we can fuck so hard you won't be able to _walk_ if that's what you want, but I wanna take this part slow." 

     After a long hesitation, "...Fuck...yeah, okay," Stan said a little breathless, and Kyle didn't miss the quick flash of relief that passed over his eyes.  He smiled warmly and pulled Stan back against his chest as he worked the third finger all the way in.  The difference was noticeable, Stan going boneless against him, arms wrapped around his neck.  And maybe he'd stopped all that lustful humping bullshit, but Kyle wasn't complaining because his fingers slipped in easily now.  He brought them out to get more lube twice, and Stan stayed relaxed each time he pushed back in.  

     "Luv your hans..." Stan slurred into his neck.  

      Kyle smiled, turning and pressing a kiss to his ear.  

     "Used to watch you write in class," Stan admitted breathlessly.  "Long fingers...elegan-ahh..." he let out a sudden moan when Kyle pushed abruptly deeper just to see the reaction, "bony knuckles," he concluded, chuckling airily.  

     Kyle giggled a little into Stan's hair, feeling giddy again- because fuck they were really going to enjoy this if he could hold off orgasm long enough to take Stan apart, but he felt nervous enough to clench up again, so chances were good.  

     After about five minutes of lazy fingering, Stan started shifting in his lap, angling his hips carefully, "Up a little," he mumbled.  

     Eyes widening as he realized what Stan was asking for, Kyle obeyed, pushing his middle finger up gently, deeper than he'd reached before, and Stan's arms tightened around his neck, his breath hitching in Kyle's ear.  "There?" he checked.

     "Yeah!" Stan breathed, shutting his eyes tight, "Fuck, Ky....harder."

     Kyle followed suit, pulling his fingers out to the first knuckle and pushing back into that specific place, deep into nerve tissue.  Stan jolted in his lap, making a keening noise, and Kyle's eyes widened, amazed.  He did it again and the reaction was just as good, so he did it again, and again, and holy fuck, he was fingering-fucking his best friend.  "Holy shit..." he breathed, watching in fascination as Stan's mouth fell open and he worked his ass back onto Kyle's hand, moaning in pleasure.  "Holy shit, Stan- oh my God...holy shit...s-shit, oh God..."

     Stan laughed in between breathy sighs, "Ky...ha fuck, can I be ready now?" he teased.  

     While he was still sort of freaking out, Kyle rolled them over, Stan untangling his legs and flipping onto his back first, opening his arms and folding them around Kyle's neck as he resettled between his legs and replaced his fingers.  Kyle took the time to nip and suck at Stan's chest, brush his fingers through the fine black hair and flick his tongue over a nipple as he worked the muscle just a little more loose then retracted his fingers.  

     Stan reached over and grabbed the condom he'd set out for them, scrambling back into position eagerly, "I just have to say- I'm totally clean and I trust you completely, I'm only suggesting we use this because y'know how crazy and fucked-up things can get-"

     Kyle snatched the packet from Stan as he was babbling, ripping it open with his teeth- which were probably cleaner than his hands right now.  "It's fine, Stan, c'mon," he huffed.

     Stan took the condom back and slipped it out of the packet, jiggling it a little to unroll the tip.  He backed up underneath Kyle to unroll it over his tip, "I don't know if it'll even fit, you're kinda...bigger..."

     "Wait, those are-?" _Brad's condoms._

     The latex stretched around Kyle's girth, but it was uncomfortably tight and only got about halfway down, "...Yeah," Stan answered, already rolling the condom back off.  "Just forget it."

     "Ugh, I can't believe you put that on my dick," Kyle huffed, glaring down at the rubber.  

     "They're the only ones I have," Stan said apologetically, tossing the rubber aside.  "They don't even fit me."

     Kyle's brows drew together, "Wait...didn't  _you_ ever-"   _Didn't he ever let you fuck him?_

     "Can we fuck already?  C'mon," Stan interrupted, locking his legs around Kyle's back and pulling his hips up to brush their cocks together, "You prepped me for _hours_ , let's go."  He reached between them to stroke Kyle's flagging erection back to full hardness- it wasn't difficult.  Kyle was still kinda enraptured by the idea of having Stan touch his dick, and Stan was sort of amazing with his hand, squeezing gently at Kyle's balls and jacking firmly.

     Leaning down to kiss Stan's lips complacently, "Barely ten minutes," Kyle corrected, breathing heavy and reaching his hand between Stan's legs to be sure he was still relaxed.  "I promise I'm clean, but...you're really sure you don't wanna look in your parents' room for something we can use?"

     "Like my dad's condoms are any bigger," Stan said, rolling his eyes and making a disgusted face.  He grabbed Kyle's hips and pulled them toward him, "I've been checked, I'm clean...and I mean- it's _you_.  Now, _c'mon,_ " he whined. 

     Kyle gave no further protest.  With anyone else, he'd be paranoid, never do anything without protection, but if Stan said he was clean, Kyle trusted him- even if he didn't trust Brad.  So, he leaned over Stan and kissed gently at his shoulder while Stan reached down and guided his dick forward, squeezing his thighs around Kyle's waist to pull him in at his own pace.  Kyle couldn't do much besides hiss in pleasure as tight rings of muscle spread and hugged around him.  Stan's body opened willingly and swallowed him hole, drawing him in quickly to the hilt and he leaned forward on his elbows. "....ffffuck," he breathed.  

      Stan's head was tipped back, mouth hanging open in a silent scream as he pulled in a shaky breath, his lips trembling, eyes bright and half-lidded.  He'd grabbed onto Kyle's face where it had pressed to his chest and pulled him up into a sloppy, desperate kiss, muffling any sounds either of them had been on the verge of making.  They were literally joined at the hip now, and Kyle could cry he was so happy.  Stan was warm and alive around him- his stupid bulimia hadn't killed him and all the shit he'd been going through hadn't torn them apart for good.  Fuck- somehow it had brought them closer, Kyle could feel it.  Stan's tongue was uncoordinated in his mouth, languid and clumsy, and occasionally his teeth would scrape into the mix and it wasn't on purpose this time.  He kept pulling at Kyle's hair, driving Kyle insane.  

      As soon as Kyle's lips were free, "...ha...oh _God_...you good?" 

     " _So_ good," Stan breathed, fingers tugging in Kyle's curls and unconsciously dragging whines from him.  

     Kyle just quieted himself, muffling his mouth into Stan's neck and down his chest as he started a very slow and controlled rhythm, rolling his hips against Stan's, not so much thrusting as just grinding in, and holy shit- if he wasn't so terrified of the magnanimity of this- what this meant for them, he'd come immediately and blow everything.  Sex with Josh had been nice- mostly just because it was mindless and Kyle had imagined Stan the whole time, but this was so _real_ , so important and indescribable, Kyle knew he was in deep.  He just held Stan's arms tight and sucked a dark bruise into his shoulder, marking over the places Brad's mouth had once marred.  

     "Ah, fuck....ah haah, Kyle...Ah, Ky-... _Kyle_ ,"  Stan had more trouble holding back his noises, breathing labored, making that high-pitched keening sound he'd made when Kyle had fingered his prostate- so Kyle thought maybe he was pressing right into it.  He backed out a little to give Stan some reprieve, but Stan just pulled him back in with the legs wrapped tight around Kyle's back, groaning his name when he was seated back inside.  He rolled his hips, working his muscles around Kyle's length and groaning.

     And, Kyle was losing it to Stan's voice.  He'd known it so well…the one he'd recognize anywhere, he’d heard it soothing girls in tears, talking a man down from a ledge, raising crowds to a cause, in pain and anger, from sleepy to excited, in tender song, screaming, crying- every variation in between, _reciting the pledge of allegiance every fucking morning from preschool through fucking ninth grade_.  It was his _Stan'_ _s_ voice...but he'd never known it could sound like this, and now that he'd heard it moaning his name, it could never ever sound the same again.  It was ruining him- and he _needed_ to hear more.  

     He pushed deep and ground down, pulled out and repeated, and Stan groaned a little and matched the motions, pulling Kyle up by the hair to kiss him.  Stan ended up setting the rhythm, easily controlling from the bottom, finally taking exactly what he needed and dominating the kiss while Kyle did little more than rut and moan into Stan's mouth.  He could hear the sound of Stan's foreskin as he jacked himself with increasing speed, his moaning growing in volume as well.  There really wasn't any impetus to be quiet- Stan's house was empty and neither of them could bring themselves to feel embarrassed.   _After nine months of avoiding each other, what respect was there to lose?_  So, if Stan nearly screamed as he came, Kyle wouldn't hold it over his head- in fact, it was a sound he wanted to play on repeat for hours.  Kyle fucked through it as Stan clenched up around him, pulled him in, fucking milked him unconsciously; Kyle just gritted his teeth and clenched his fists in concentration, looking up to Stan's face, watching his mouth tremble open and his eyes roll into his head.  

     When Stan had finished coming, he laid boneless for a moment, staring up at Kyle in a stunned haze- then immediately braced his feet into the mattress and pushed back against his thrusts with more determined vigor than before.

     Kyle's concentration snapped and he scrambled to pull out before he spilled inside Stan, but Stan pushed him over suddenly onto his back, startling him bad enough that he clenched up.  He lifted himself up onto his hands just in time to level his face with Stan's chest as he straddled him again, pressing flush against him and reaching behind to guide his dick back inside.  He took him in easily back in to the base and pressed his ass down, rocking forward a little bit as a test- then grinding down in a circular motion.  Kyle couldn't breathe.  He tried to say Stan's name, but his voice stuck.  Stan suddenly rose up and dropped down, working his way into a fast pace and watching Kyle's face closely, breathing through open lips that Kyle really wanted to kiss but couldn't quite reach.  He was doing something with his muscles that made Kyle feel like a rope pulled taut.

     Stan rode aggressively for a few minutes as Kyle struggled not to lose himself, he didn't want to come inside Stan and make a gross mess of his hole, but Stan was pulling him down fast. It was really too much, having his best friend since preschool writhing and moaning on top of him. Kyle was rising fast.  He held hard to Stan's waist, hands slipping in sweat, and bucked his hips into his bouncing, "S-Stan gonna-...." he choked off into a moan and tried to push Stan off, but Stan just wrapped his arms around his neck and picked up the pace until Kyle's groans gave way to sobs.

     Stan sat back, hips still rocking, and grabbed Kyle's face, squishing his cheeks a little, "Do it, Ky, _wreck me_ ," he growled.  

     Fuck- he'd fucking  _growled_ , and Kyle was pushing up once-twice, and  _coming **hard**_.  

     Stan crushed his shout in a firm kiss and kept rocking even as Kyle lost all rhythm and jerked out, spurted inside him.  And, Kyle's muscles locked up and twitched until he came down, breathing hard and falling back onto his hands.  Stan pulled off gingerly, his legs shaking from exhaustion and taking slow, controlled breaths.  Kyle reached up with weak arms to help steady him until he tipped over and collapsed onto the bed beside him.  He followed him down, overheated and dripping in sweat.

     They both just laid boneless for several minutes, catching their breath.  "...Holy shit, Stan..." Kyle mumbled, and Stan's groan of agreement was muffled into the mattress.  In his previous experiences, Kyle had never exhausted himself like this- even when he'd been thrusting into Annee for a quarter of an hour, he'd been able to get up to clean them off and take a shower afterwards.  This was totally different, he felt like sleepy jelly.  It was barely noon, and Kyle wasn't the kinda guy to take naps, but he was really considering it.

     After a moment, Stan lifted his head and rolled onto his side to face Kyle, "Dude..."

     "Yeah..."

     "So?"

     "What?"

     "That was..."

     "Yeah..."

     "I've never...been like that before," he admitted.  When Kyle just raised his brows, he explained, "I mean, I'm not usually that pushy...you were just driving me insane."

     Kyle frowned a little, closing his eyes.  He knew he was probably different than Stan's previous experiences, "...I'm sorry..." 

     Stan snorted and reached over to flatten a hand over Kyle's stomach, "No, oh my God, don't apologize, dude...holy fuck, Kyle.  That was awesome.  That was the best-"  He cut himself off and went silent for a minute, considering something.  "Dude.  ...You've ruined sex for me..."

     "Hm?" Kyle muttered drowsily, "What'd'you mean?"

     "Like I can ever be with someone else after _that_?  We're gonna be worlds apart in school, and people are gonna think I'm some kinda monk because I won't wanna fuck anyone."  He rolled over onto his side and toyed with a ring of Kyle's hair, "C'mon, dude...tell me that wasn't amazing."

     Kyle managed a laugh under his breath, pressing a hand into his temple- because fuck, Stan was right.  They were so screwed.  If they'd jumped straight from super-best-friendship into sex, he imagined things might've been more awkward and there would've been more fumbling and teasing each other, but because they hadn't spoken in so many months, they'd lost the overload of familiarity- it had been more like relearning each other anew.   _And he'd learned something today: he and Stan were really fucking sexually compatible._

     Stan was still staring, and Kyle realized he needed to answer.  "I honestly didn't think we'd ever..." 'fuck' didn't seem to describe what just happened, and Kyle was too tired to find a word.  

     Stan just nodded, understanding what he meant, "Yeah, and I never thought you'd be _that_ good."

     It took a minute for the insult in that to register through the fog of sex-triggered sleep hormones lulling Kyle away.  "...what's that supposed to mean?" he huffed blearily, "I told y'Vegas was good."

     "Well yeah, but I just figured that meant you had good partners.  I didn't think you were like a fucking sex god or anything."

     Kyle snorted, reaching up and trying to rub the drowsiness from his eyes.  Stan was wide awake and talking and he didn't want to miss a second of it. "Mm, speak for yourself, Cowgirl," he mumbled because honestly, Stan _had_ done most of the work.  Stan shoved him a little and he laughed.  The bed suddenly creaked and dipped beside him and his eyes flashed open, turning over to watch Stan getting up off the bed carefully.  He panicked a little, "Stan, what're you-"

     Stan came back immediately, pressing a quick kiss to Kyle's forehead and banishing his worry, "Be right back," he assured.  "You'll bitch about it if I don't clean us up a bit."

     Kyle wanted to say ' _I will not_ ', but honestly, Stan was probably right.  And, as promised, after spending a few minutes in the bathroom with the water running, Stan came back across the hall with a washcloth and walked slowly up to the bed, taking careful steps as if he was a bit sore- which made Kyle feel a little surge of pride.  "Well, you're still walking," he muttered as Stan crawled up on the bed and began wiping the sweat from his chest.  

     "I know." Stan smirked a little, "We'll have to try harder next time," he mumbled, "you made a promise."  

     It was impossible for Kyle to fight the drowsy, goofy grin off his face because ' _next time'_.  

     Stan stared blankly, taking a second to realize what he'd said to put that look on his friend's face.  A slow, genuine smile spread over his mouth and a warm stillness settled between them as their eyes met- a silent agreement.  There was a tenderness in it as Stan knelt next to Kyle and turned the washcloth over to wipe his face as Kyle had once done for him.  This was a much better reason to be covered in sweat and grime.  He took his time cleaning the lube and cum off Kyle's flaccid dick, being gentle which Kyle was immensely grateful for- he was overly sensitive.  "Kyle?" he whispered as he cleaned the underside of his friend's penis.

     "Mmhm?"

     Stan slowed in his work, "Don't get upset...or think that you've gotta answer one way.  This is seriously _just_ if you want to- it's fine if you don't, but um..." he drifted off and gently pushed Kyle's legs apart, wiping the cloth between them like an excuse to be down there, and Kyle started to get the drift of what he was asking for.  "Next time, if you're okay with it, I'd _really_ like to try-"

     "Mmhm," Kyle hummed his confirmation, lifting a leg and dropping it, bent at the knee, to the bed so his legs were spread.  Even intimately exposed like this, he was comfortable and drowsy with Stan touching him carefully.  

     "You're sure?" Stan said quickly, excitedly- like the first time he'd been allowed to take the car out on his own, and Kyle was really starting to think Brad had never let Stan take control in their sex life and he couldn't believe Stan had ever gotten so fucked in the head to date an asshole like that.  Stan drew a finger over Kyle's perineum curiously.  "You said you've never let anyone fuck you...but, you're sure?"

     "...Mmhm...trust you." 

     Stan ducked down to suck a wet kiss at Kyle's hipbone, grinning eagerly, and Kyle carded his fingers through his hair with a yawn.  "When you wake up," Stan decided, whispering against Kyle's skin, "I'll show you how to clean yourself and then we'll go nice and slow- be so good for you."

     Kyle gave a lazy grin, petting Stan's hair.  He relaxed into his sheets, swallowed up in the smell of Stan's laundry and sex and  _them_.  Stan wiped the lube off his fingers then wrapped his arms around his middle and spooned up behind him.

     Kyle fell asleep with Stan's breath warm on the back of his neck.  He slept soundly for just over two hours.  The curtains were drawn up and Stan's bed was just as comfortable as he remembered.  He'd used to love spending the night at Stan's just to sleep in his bed- before Randy had forced him to switch to a sleeping bag.  Now was different- better, with Stan curled in behind him, a little sticky and hot, but so comfortable...

     When he woke from his nap, Kyle stretched languidly, pulling open overused muscles.  Even after Stan's cat-bath, he felt grimy and too-warm.  He rolled over onto his side to face the spot that Stan had settled into beside him...

     But, Stan wasn't there.  

     Letting out a contained groan, he pushed himself up and stretched again, more thoroughly this time.  It was a little disappointing not to wake up next to Stan and get to enjoy how he'd cuddled up against his back, but Kyle was too content to complain about anything.  He just threw his feet over the side of the bed and got up, stretching one more time and stumbling over to his clothes.  He slipped on his shorts just because it felt wrong to walk around naked in someone else's house, then headed out into the hall.  He glanced into the bathroom, but all the other doors upstairs were closed, so he walked to the top of the steps, "Stan?" he shouted through the house.  He was probably in the kitchen...

     A squeak of door hinges behind him- "You just missed him..."

     Kyle spun on his heel to face, "...Karen... _McCormick_?" he said, brows drawing together in confusion.  He suddenly felt naked without a shirt.  He had been sure that Shelley's door had been open when he and Stan had run up the stairs to his room, and the room had been empty.  He was _sure_ they'd been alone, so she must've come in while he was sleeping...

     "Yeah," she said, blinking once, "You're Ike's brother...Kyle?" 

     "...Yes," Kyle said, still confused.  Karen knew Ike from her class.  She'd been over the Broflovski household a few times to play with him.  It just didn't make sense why she'd be here.  "What're you doing in Stan's house?" Kyle asked.

     She raised her brows, looking somewhat incredulous, "I _live_ here."  And, when Kyle narrowed his eyes in confusion, "...wait, you're _Kyle_...like _the_ Kyle..." realization seemed to wash over her, " _Oh_ , you wouldn't know then.  Kenny and Stan convinced Mr. and Mrs. Marsh to let me move into Shelley's old room last time my parents were arrested...I've lived here for like a year now..." she explained.

     Kyle just stared in shock.  But it made sense now- why Kenny had sided so vehemently with Stan when the two best friends fought.  Stan was doing Kenny a big favor by getting his sister out of that house, so it was a loyalty thing.  But what did  _'the_ Kyle' mean?  "Stan talks about me?" Kyle guessed.

     She shrugged, "Only when he's smashed."

     "...oh."

     "Yeah..."

     Kyle frowned, folding his arms over his bare chest awkwardly.  Karen was probably very used to drunk people, and he could imagine that she'd helped Stan keep his little 'problem' a secret from his parents since she moved in.  Stan probably loved her for that.  Kyle glanced back down the stairs behind them, "Um, do you know where he is?"

     She leaned into the doorway of Shelley's bedroom.  "Said something about meeting up with his boyfriend to take a call...which um...doesn't explain why you're naked in his bed and you smell like sex..."

     Whoa... _really_ awkward...  Kyle shuffled a little, scratching at his elbows where his arms were locked over his chest.  He looked away from her gaze, "We didn't...um-"

     "Yeah y'did."   

     Kyle fidgeted, changing the subject, "Look, do you know why he went to Cartman's?"

     She raised both brows, "Something about college, but hopefully he's finally breaking up with the fatass too- if _you're_ anything to go off of," she said, smirking a little immaturely.  

     Kyle was smarter than to get his hopes up, but he couldn't really help the tight smile he wore.  "Did he say when he'd be back?"

     "He just said Eric had texted him about an important call from the Director of his troupe and he needed Eric with him to call him back."

     "Troupe?" Kyle said, confused.  

     "Yeah," she said, frowning again because she realized she'd have to explain since Stan hadn't spoken to Kyle in so long- at least, that's why Kyle _thought_ she was frowning until she started to speak, "Stan auditioned for a musical theater troupe back in January and he got in.  He's supposed to go meet up with them in a week.  They're helping him pay his way through college..." she paused as if she didn't want to say it if Kyle already knew and she hated to realize he didn't, "...in Liverpool."

     Silence as that sunk in.  There was a little tug in the back of Kyle's throat like he wanted to make some kind of sound but nothing came.   _Liverpool_.  "-England?"

     She nodded solemnly, reading Kyle's expression knowingly.  "I can't believe he didn't tell you...before you..." she motioned toward Stan's bedroom door suggestively.  

     Yeah- neither could Kyle.  His body had locked up in surprise, every muscle held taut, jaw clenched.   _Liverpool_.  It was so far away...'worlds apart'.  That's what Stan had said.  ' _We're gonna be worlds apart in school'._

     "He's been really excited about it," Karen went on, trying to fill the silence before Kyle slipped into shock.  "He visited the University of Liverpool over Spring Break and he came back talking about it nonstop- how he feels like he can relate to the people there...but uh...he got drunk once and told me it was because everyone there sees how shitty everything is."  She shrugged a little, "A whole country of cynics, I'm not sure if that place'll be good for him or not, but Sharon is going with him, and she's always been the sane one, so I'm...I'm sure he'll be fine."  

     "...Liverpool," Kyle breathed.  

     She reached out to put a hand on Kyle's shoulder, "It'll be okay."

     He just brushed it away, speaking a little frantically, "I mean, he'll be back for the summers, so...yeah it's okay.  I'll just see him when we're both back fr-" 

     "Well no...Sharon's going with him and they're both staying," Karen explained.  

     "...what?" Kyle choked.  

     "Yeah- she's leaving and going with him to England.  They'll rent her a flat or something and he'll live on-campus and take theater classes."  

     "So he's..." Kyle couldn't say it.  He couldn't get the words out.   _Stan is leaving_.  He was leaving for good, just like they'd always talked about but they were supposed to go together...now Stan was leaving Kyle _far_ behind and he knew it and he'd called Kyle over for a last minute booty-call...then he'd left- to see _Cartman._ Was it just a way to get even?

    Stan had promised Kyle they'd be together again when he woke up- that he'd be 'so good for him'.  Well, Kyle _woke up_ \- that's for sure.  "I can't do this," he decided, breaking away from the spot he stood and jolting for Stan's door.  

     "...Wait, Kyle," said Karen, trying to grab his shoulder and missing as he ran back into Stan's room to get his clothes.  She stood in the doorway as he went in and picked them up frantically.  "Kyle, listen to me.  I know you love him-"

     "You _don't_ , Karen," Kyle said exasperatedly, standing from the floor and glaring at her, holding his clothes in his fists, and his tone of voice shut her up.  "You hardly know me at all- maybe through Kenny and Ike and Stan, but you don't know _me_ and how things've changed.  Whatever Stan and I could've had- that's history, okay?  That was a pipe dream from when we were little kids.  This was..." he looked over at Stan's bed- how the corners of the bedspread had been pulled up in their lovemak- ...fuck...fucking.  It was fucking, okay?  "This was a mistake," Kyle said firmly, bundling up his clothes in his arms and walking for the door.  

     But, Karen didn't move.  Her eyes wide in panic. "Stan and Kyle," she said.  "Stan and Kyle, Stan and Kyle- that's what it's _always_ been.  That's what Kenny always said.  He was jealous of you two, y'know- how close you guys were- so close people couldn't imagine one without the other.  I don't think Ken realized- he was never bitter about it, but it was there.  He longed for something that deep, but he's always distanced himself.  I dunno why- doesn't matter right now.  My point is- I haven't even really spoken to you before, but even _I_ know how this works.  It's _Stan and Kyle_.  Okay?"

     "Karen, c'mon and mov-"

     "You came here!" she cut him off.  "You had to have a reason- you _had_ to."

     "I wanted to fuck him!" Kyle snapped.  "That's _it_."

     Karen glared.  

     "He fucked me up, Karen," Kyle growled, pointing at the bed for some reason.  "He fucked up my senior year when he cut me off, and maybe I wanted to fuck him up.  Maybe that's all I ever wanted."

     She shook her head.  "You love him."

     "No," Kyle said firmly, pushing her out of the way.  

     "You came here for a second chance and now you're just gonna fucking stomp all over it?!" she screamed as he ran for the stairs, pulling on his shirt.  She ran to the top step, following the fight- just like her mother, "He _always_ moaned your name, Kyle!"  He threw his shoes to the ground, flipping one with his foot to toe it on.  "Kyle!" Karen screamed again, seeing that he was still leaving, running down the stairs, "Kyle, did you hear me?"  He got on one shoe before she grabbed him and he had to swat her off, "He moaned _your_ name...not Brad's- he _told_ me."

     Kyle narrowed his eyes, "What."

     "He drank a _lot_ after the break-up.  I heard him crying so I checked on him and he had..." her eyes dropped but the set of her jaw stayed firm, "He'd puked all over his hands and he was just sitting there, bent over bracing his arms on his knees so the puke dripped onto the floor and he was...I mean he was _sobbing_.  If his parents hadn't been out on a date, I wouldn't've been able to distract them from it.  He started talking about the things Bradley would do in bed- some of it was just..." she looked nauseous, "Anyways, he said he'd moaned your name the first time and so Bradley kept telling him he had to remind him who he was with from then on...he'd use toys on him or something...have Stan put things up his-"

     "I get it!" Kyle snapped.  He'd looked up what _sounding_ meant.  He didn't want to think about it.  He just wrapped his arms back over his chest, shaking his head in silence.  

     Karen let him have his quiet for a few moments.  But, she had to say her peace.  "Maybe you don't want to feel anything for him- I know he sure as hell didn't want to think of _you_ ever again for the longest time, but something's changed.  You wouldn't be here if it hadn't.  He had all these things he was using to keep himself away, so maybe he lost one of those things- I don't know...what I do know is, while you might be able to push this down- he _can't_.  He tried, but-" she cut herself off and gave Kyle a pleading look, and Kyle realized how much she'd grown to care about Stan- like an adopted brother.  "He needs you..."

     Kyle set his mouth hard and kept his eyes dry by shear force of will.  Yeah, Stan had told him that one before.  That didn't stop him from fucking Brad.  It didn't stop him from drinking and smoking and getting in fights.  It didn't stop him from _leaving_.  "I know," Kyle said simply, bending to grab his other shoe and put it on.  

     She didn't stop him when he walked out the door.  

     There were no stars to provide oblivion this time- the sunlight refracting of that fucking goddamn atmosphere fucked that up.  Shit.  There was just a pair of fucking boxer briefs stuffed in Kyle's pocket, a pressure against his leg for him to focus his thoughts on.  He walked in silence, forcing numbness into his brain.   Karen was right- or at least, she'd heard right.  Stan was probably Kyle's goddamn _soulmate_ or something awful like that.  Some luck.  

     No, luck was an ugly green hybrid swerving right in front of him and driving into the drain gully beside the road, missing him by just a few narrow feet.  Kyle jumped back and fell on his ass.  Of course it was Stan's fucking hybrid.  Goddamn hippie.  Kyle picked himself up off the ground and ran to open the car door- make sure Stan hadn't hurt himself, figure out why he'd just lost control of his car like that...

     Oh...  

     Two beer cans fell out of the drivers seat when Stan tried to climb out, grabbing onto Kyle's shoulder and pulling.  When he recognized who he'd nearly run over, he grinned sloppily and pursed his lips like he wanted a kiss.

     "You're drunk," Kyle protested.  

     "Came back f'you," Stan slurred.  

     "You're drunk," Kyle repeated, getting an arm up underneath Stan's shoulders as he started to sag forward.

     "L'bit."

     Kyle didn't say anything.  There was no point.  It wouldn't change Stan.  He just half-carried the man he'd made-fucking-love with about three hours ago to the passenger seat, drunk off his ass.  He shoved him into the car and stooped to buckle him in snug.  He walked around to the driver seat, put the car into neutral, turned the wheel, and got out back to give it the push it needed to get out of the gully.  He really had to get down into the grass and strain to get Stan's stupid car to move, but he managed it.  

     He dropped into the driver's seat, buckled up, and Stan immediately started trying to touch his leg.  

     "No, Stan," he said, shoving him off twice as he put the car into gear and drove them onto the road.  Time passed and Kyle fumed.  Somehow, staring at the white line dividing the road, words fell out of Kyle's mouth.  "I didn't think I could ever hate you..." he said honestly.  "I mean, you _really_ hurt me with what you said at that party, but I was okay with it all this time.  I thought I could just forget about it, that maybe now that we've been together it would all change, but now I don't think it can.  I- I couldn't hate you then."  He grit his teeth to hold back tears, "Could never hate you... I kinda thought I deserved it.  But, I don't, Stan.  I never did."  He bit his lip and squeezed the wheel, feeling an awful sense of deja vu, "I think I can hate you now," he said, voice cracking, "I deserve so much better than you..."    

     Stan had started crying, sniffling and wiping his face on his bare arm. "I came back for...for _you_ , Kyle..."

     "What does that even _mean_ , Stan?!" Kyle snapped.  "You weren't supposed to _leave_ in the first place- you're not supposed to leave people like this!" he shouted, slipping up and referring to the departure to come- Liverpool- rather than the smaller one Stan had just pulled on him.  Stan wouldn't pick up on the tenses.  

     But somehow he did.  "I _could've_ gone t'day," Stan slurred, "got me an audition f'the firs...uh...show.  Suppose t'be talent scouts or...I dunno...Carman- 'e got me a plane ticket, we drank t'success an shit."  Stan didn't realize that Kyle shouldn't know what he was talking about.  He dug around in his pocket until he found a crumpled piece of paper, "See?  Ticket."  He held the sheet in front of Kyle's face until Kyle had to snatch it away to see the road.  "Turn't it down to come back t'you..." he sobbed.  "Love you."

     Cartman had gotten Stan an audition and chose to tell him about it directly after Stan had finally taken Kyle to bed?  It couldn't be a coincidence.  Somehow that fatass had planned this, he'd known about the audition and just wasn't going to tell Stan, but then he'd heard somehow that Stan and Kyle had gotten back together so he bought a plane ticket and made last-minute arrangements to send Stan away today.  Kyle glanced down at the online receipt and confirmed his theory.  It was a last-minute booking.  What an asshole- taking something that should be positive for Stan and making it absolute **_hell_ ** for Kyle...  And, what was it with Stan and picking boyfriends that let him drive drunk?  

     Kyle drove Stan back to his house and helped him out of the car.  As soon as he was out, he fell into the grass and threw up.  Kyle knelt and rubbed his back, waited for him to catch his breath, then helped him up.  He wasn't too drunk to walk, but Kyle still had to keep an arm under his shoulders so he wouldn't run into Randy's gardening supplies.  He took him inside and sat him down at the kitchen table.  It was just past two-thirty, but there was still some coffee in the pot, so Kyle added water and set some more to brew while he went upstairs.  

     Karen met him at the top of the steps.  "He's drunk," Kyle explained shortly.  She deflated, mouth falling open in disappointment.  She gave Kyle a guilty, apologetic look which he just waved off.  "Can you just go get him to drink some water please?  I need him to sober up quick."

     They headed off in different directions, Karen down the stairs to go take care of Stan and Kyle into his room to pack a suitcase of his clothes.  That work was already done for him really- he should've guessed that was why Stan's stuff was all packed up into boxes.  He made quick work of packing, grabbing a box labeled **clothes for LPool** , and stuffing them into the suitcase.  He went down to relieve Karen from drunk-Stan-duty in the kitchen.  When he got down there, Stan was looking a little more alert, nursing a mug of coffee in his lap and staring at the cabinets dejectedly.  He looked up briefly when Kyle came in, eyes locking on him then sinking back to the floor, frowning harder than before.  Kyle knew it probably had to do with what he'd said in the car, but there wasn't time for apologies.  Stan's plane boarded at eight and they had to drive to Denver which could be a good three-hour drive in bad traffic.  Cartman would've planned it that way- force Kyle to rush Stan out the door...out of his life.  

     "You need a shower, Stan..." he said blankly.  

     Stan didn't move. 

     He seemed to need some kind of incentive.  So, Kyle walked over to him, grabbing his chin and tipping it up so he could see his pupils as he reached over the counter and flicked the kitchen light on, brightening the natural light already in the room.  Stan's pupils contracted with just a little bit of delay.  Yeah- he was sober enough to understand what was happening.  So, Kyle leaned down and kissed his lips chastely.  "I'll help," he offered- like he wasn't demanding it.

     Stan glared a little, but he didn't fight it when Kyle pulled him out of his chair.  He stumbled a little as he stood, probably getting a nasty case of vertigo, but Kyle just pulled one of his arms around his shoulder and let Stan lean on him as he guided them both up the stairs to the bathroom.  He propped Stan against the counter while he ran back to Stan's room and grabbed him a t-shirt and some sweat pants and boxers, and when he came back, Stan had already stripped and gotten himself in the shower, curled up in the corner without the water.  Kyle set down Stan's clothes on the sink and shut the door before reaching down to strip off his own.  He pulled off his shirt and waited to be sure Stan was watching him before he reached into the waist of his pants and lowered them, showing Stan that he wasn't wearing underwear.  Stan's brows just raised a notch, mouth falling open.  

     Kyle turned on the water low so that it wouldn't reach Stan yet while he waited for it to warm up.  Once he was sure it wasn't cold, he turned it up and crawled into the shower, touching Stan's knees, but when he tried to get him to straighten his legs, Stan just spread them instead, letting the warm water wash over his exposed chest and stomach, around his cock and between his legs.  If Kyle wasn't so frustrated, he'd be really turned on right now.  "Fine," he growled, "down here then."  

     So, he reached up and snatched the dry washcloth from the rack and wet it in the spray, squirting some soap into the fabric and kneading it in his palm before bringing it to Stan's cheek and rubbing circles, "Close your eyes," he ordered.  Stan obeyed, and Kyle washed his face first, held his head forward by the hair to rinse, then continued down his neck and chest, his arms, his stomach, his thighs, calves, feet.  There were dark red marks shaped like his own mouth.  Stan had his own all over Kyle, but Kyle couldn't bare to look down and find himself claimed.  He pulled Stan to lean forward so he could wash the back of his neck and down his spine.  It was almost clinical until Stan rolled onto his hands and knees, inviting Kyle to wash the backs of his thighs and his ass.  Kyle detached himself and did so, running the soapy washcloth between Stan's legs and over his balls, down the flesh of his half-erect dick, holding his legs open to rinse, ignoring the sounds Stan made- probably to annoy him.  

     Kyle had to pull Stan back to the floor to wash his hair.  When he stood to reach the shampoo, he felt Stan's hands on his penis again and he smacked him away, but Stan took the brief moment when Kyle's hands were occupied with opening the bottle to get his mouth on the tip of his cock.  "Stan!" Kyle snapped.  "Quit it, you're drunk."  He sat down in front of Stan and poured some shampoo into his hand, looking down just long enough to see that certain parts of Stan's body didn't care that he was inebriated.  "How?" he huffed.  

    Stan didn't answer that.  He just closed his eyes as Kyle rubbed suds into his hair, got his whole head soapy then pulled him forward to rinse it all off.  He brushed Stan's hair back once it was clean so it wouldn't drip in his eyes, and Stan's eyes opened to stare at him, so fucking blue.  Stan bit his lip and his whole body shifted a bit, alerting Kyle that he was reaching down to touch himself.  

     Fuck...this wasn't _fair_.  

     Kyle pushed his wet curls away from his forehead so they wouldn't drip in his eyes and he scooted forward on the plastic tub floor, into Stan's spread legs.  He kissed Stan's neck, his shoulder, his sternum, his navel.  When he came to Stan's erection, he took him in hand, pushed the foreskin up so it nearly covered the tip, and Stan's breath hitched.  Kyle hadn't given a blow job before, he'd always considered it really dirty, but he wanted to have Stan's taste in his memory, and this was as clean as they were ever gonna get.  

     So he got down onto his elbows, holding Stan's legs, and took him in his mouth, sucking so that the foreskin lifted on his tongue.   _Thank God for Catholics._   As much as this sucked emotionally- this was fucking awesome.  Stan's dick a firm weight on his tongue, Kyle could feel every twitch and pulse of Stan's body in his mouth.  He couldn't open his throat like Stan had- he could only lick and suck at two or three inches without wanting to gag, but Stan didn't seem to care, he just grabbed into Kyle's short, wet curls and held on, legs twitching.  Kyle jacked what he couldn't get in his mouth, and gently kneaded Stan's balls to feel for when he was close, running his tongue under the foreskin because Stan's tip tasted strongest where it was leaking sticky fluid.  

     It took longer than Kyle expected to get Stan off which maybe had to do with his inexperience.  But fortunately, Stan stayed mostly silent until he started coming, then his hands came up over his mouth to muffle the nosies and his hips bucked.  Kyle grabbed his hips to still him and he got Stan as deep as he could to swallow around him as he came, keeping most of the ejaculate off his tongue...it was kinda gross.  

     Kyle spit out what didn't go down on the first swallow, and Stan just stared at him dazed, "Kiss me..." he said breathlessly.  

    "What," Kyle deadpanned.  

     Stan didn't repeat himself, he just grabbed the back of his head and pulled him up into his lap, almost missing as he kissed at the side of Kyle's mouth.  He shifted until their mouths were aligned properly and licked into Kyle's mouth to taste himself like Brad had probably never wanted to taste himself.  Kyle didn't know his heart could break from a drunken kiss, but it did.  Stan tasted like coffee and booze and now kinda like jizz and Kyle was pretty sure they were gonna leave it there- that would be how he remembered his best friend tasting.  

     He stood up to wash himself in cold water, as Stan got out and wrapped up in a towel, sat on the toilet seat and watched Kyle wash himself properly, like cleaning up a crime scene.  Stan passed him a towel when he got out and he stared a little.  "You sure you're drunk...?" 

     "Functioning alcololic," Stan slurred a little, dead serious.  

     Kyle believed it.  

     They dried and dressed and Kyle loaded Stan's suitcase into his car.  He told Karen where they were going- about the ticket and the audition and that Stan would call when he got there, and she promised to relay the information to Stan's parents.  Legally, Stan was an adult, but they'd still panic if they got home and he was gone and hadn't called.  So, Kyle loaded Stan and all his luggage into the car and got into the drivers' seat.  He had his license in his wallet at all times even though he hadn't ever had his own car- or anywhere to drive one.  

     Stan was extremely quiet as they left town, and Kyle glanced over every once in awhile until about half-an-hour into the drive, he was sure Stan had fallen asleep.  So, Kyle had a lot of quiet time to think over everything that had happened in just a few short hours.  This was probably the cruelest thing Cartman had ever done to him...and he was sure it was Cartman's fault- that he'd given Stan this opportunity on purpose, knowing Kyle would have him take it.  

     Stan had moaned his name during his first time...just like he had moaned Stan's.  It'd be poetic if it wasn't so fucking cruel.  They could've been doing this all along- screwing each other brainless...instead they'd be stuck with the memories to haunt them while they were out seizing those ill-intended opportunities.  If this was one of those eighties romcoms that Kyle had watched as a kid, they'd both just throw away their futures to be together, settle for something simple and mediocre for the sake of love.  But, Kyle knew that wasn't their flavor of fucked up.  They were going to go their separate ways and kick their separate asses and maybe hear about one another on the news someday and look back on all the good and the bad with equal fondness...

     Stan stirred in the passenger seat.  "Hafuck...ah...ah, fuck..." he groaned, his whole body curling up as he came back into uncomfortable consciousness.

     "There's ibuprofen in the glove compartment," Kyle said knowingly.  He'd put it there himself- he knew Stan would need it.  Stan never could sleep well on car rides.

     Stan pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes tight, black hair standing up in the back from how he'd slept.  He sat up and fumbled for the compartment, clipping it open and squinting as he rummaged inside.  He grabbed the medicine tube and uncapped it roughly, pouring two tablets out into his hand and throwing them back dry.  He gulped and snapped the lid back on the tube, dropping his hands into his lap and sitting back, dazed.  

     Kyle drove on in silence.  He didn't even touch the radio.  He was too pissed to fill the quiet this time- just let it be.  The sun would be setting soon

     "Where are we going...?" Stan finally asked, voice quiet.  

     "Denver," Kyle said, voice clipped.  

     Stan was silent for another moment, then, "...airport?"

     Kyle didn't grace that with a confirmation- Stan already knew.  

     "So you know about Liverpool," Stan concluded correctly.  He went quiet in shame.  "I...uh, I guess it doesn't make a difference if I say I turned it down, does it?" he said, staring at the road.  

     "What." Kyle said, demanding explanation with one syllable.  

     "When Cartman told me he'd gotten tickets for that audition...  I mean, I'd told him I wanted to go to it yesterday, but he bitched and moaned about it- said he didn't want me to leave him stuck here with Kenny for the rest of the summer.  I wouldn't've guessed that he'd go and buy me a plane ticket, but he texted me while you were asleep, said he'd gotten a call from my director that there would be talent scouts in the theater during the audition process.  He said I had to come over to talk to him, and I really didn't wanna leave- but you were sleeping really deeply and if I was supposed to talk to the director, it was important.  Cartman really just called me over to give me the tickets.  I was kinda pissed because I was just supposed to be gone for a minute than I was gonna come back to you, but he gave me the tickets and insisted that I drink with him.  I shouldn't've driven...I could've just walked." 

     "What d'you mean you 'turned it down'?" Kyle pushed.  Stan was beating around the bush.  

     "I told him I'd changed my mind, I didn't want to leave for England yet," Stan said, shrugging a little.  "I wanted to stay with you...y'know, catch up on what you've been up to, ease you into the whole Liverpool thing.  Cartman didn't push the issue any more, but he said the ticket was nonrefundable and he gave it to me anyway.  I was uh...I was kinda smashed already.  I'd only had one drink at that point, but I'm pretty sure he put something in it...or maybe I just drank too fast.  I really wanted to get back to you..."

     Kyle ignored that.  He had to be strong here.  Stan was leaving now or later, and he couldn't bare to fall any harder just to see him leave.  "Did Cartman say why he'd changed his mind about you going?"

     Stan shrugged a little, "He said the theater- it kinda sounded like bullshit, but he said that, since I didn't have a job anymore I couldn't let anything hold me back in South Park, not even him."

      _Or Kyle._   If _Karen_ knew about the things Stan had been using to keep himself away from Kyle, Cartman must have as well.  Cartman would've known that, without his job, Stan's control would've snapped and he would've gone back to Kyle.  So, Cartman had probably bought the ticket as soon as he'd heard about the comet.   _  
_

     Stan didn't need to know Kyle's theory- even though Kyle was pretty damn sure he was right.  Kyle just sighed and turned on the headlights.  It was getting dark.  "How much do you remember?" he said softly, just loud enough to be heard over the engine.  Last time he'd cared for Stan while he was drunk, he hadn't expected him to remember anything, but Stan had recalled Kyle's care...how much he remembered this time could determine how they parted ways.

     Stan shifted a little uncomfortably in his seat, his ass probably sore from sitting for so long.  He seemed to consider the implications of Kyle's question and the pain in his ass like two joint concepts...they kinda _were_.  He looked over at Kyle, a pained tightness in the corner of his eyes when Kyle looked over for a second, and that was answer enough.  

     Kyle frowned at the road.  "Stan..."

     "It's okay, you don't have to-"

     "I _do_ , Stan.  I don't wanna leave it like that, okay?"

     "...okay?"

     Kyle sighed again.  Blanking on what to say now that he wanted to speak- now that Stan expected him to.  "Stan I...I don't hate you," he started.  "I don't.  But it would...fuck, Stan, it'd be so much easier.  After what we just did, I can't just feel _nothing_ , but at least if I could hate you, I wouldn't miss you like I have this year..."  He couldn't look over at Stan.  This was the same seat Stan had sat in as he'd said his own peace on the subject.  Now it was Kyle's turn.  Nine months of bottle his feelings- he deserved to say _something_.  "I don't _need_ people, Stan.  That's such a fucking stupid thing to do, letting yourself become dependent on another human being- we're too changeable.  I'd never be so fucking dumb...but...but fuck, I _want_ you so much.  I want you in my life all the fucking time, okay?  I don't know how to stop it.  I thought it'd go away if I tried to ignore it when you were gone, but I saw you at that theater and I still wanted to talk to you _so bad_  and somehow I just knew it'd be okay if I did.  I thought we'd be okay after we fucked, but Karen told me you're leaving and I just...we were _so_ good Stan and you were right- we're so fucking ruined and I'm going to DC and you're leaving the country and going to Liverpool to sing and act and I wanna be so happy for you, but you're not coming back and I just wanna _hate you_ **so much** so I won't love you when you're gone..."

     "Who told you I'm not coming back?" Stan said abruptly, brows knit.  

     Kyle froze, feeling like he'd been slapped, "...Karen...she said your mom's coming with you so you both can stay over-"

     "Well yeah...but, my parents aren't getting a divorce or anything," Stan said, confused as to what Kyle had heard.  "They're just taking some time apart while I'm in school- I don't think she'll stay more than a month really, they used to do this all the time."

     "But, Karen said-"

     "I don't think Karen's seen it yet..." Stan interrupted, brows drawn together in concern, worried about what Kyle must be thinking.  "She might've been confused- or maybe she actually listens when they're fighting."

     A tight knot in Kyle's chest was loosening- maybe this was just another overreaction, "So...what're you saying?  You mean that you'll-"

     "I'll come back home eventually, Kyle..." Stan said simply, staring.  "I mean, this town's given me some issues that I wanna work out on my own somewhere far away, but I'll come back home if you call.  Wherever you've settled down, just call me and I'll come home to you.  I mean, You really thought I wouldn't?"  

     Kyle hesitated again, struggling to wrap his brain around Stan was trying to say ' _just call me and I'll meet you there'_   'I'll come back home'.  "Well, we always said we wouldn't ever go back to that place..."

     "Kyle, we were just stupid kids."

     And yeah, Kyle was beginning to understand what Stan meant.  Stupid...that was one way to describe it...

 

**Author's Note:**

> Title- I Don't Wanna Love Somebody Else by Great Big World  
> Desc- Can't Help Falling In Love by Elvis Presley


End file.
